Dancing
by skybound2
Summary: NOW COMPLETE! It was everything she had ever said, every punch she had ever thrown, and every hurtful thing she ever did. All of it. . . And why? To be hers because... "He loves me."
1. Encounter

Title: Dancing  
  
Author: Skybound  
  
Disclaimer: None of these guys are mine, all praise Joss.  
  
Spoilers: Anything up through and including "Potential"  
  
Summary: A B/S encounter after "Potential." This is my first fanfic so please review. Thanks : )  
  
Status: In progress  
  
Chapter 1: Encounter  
  
Patrol that night had been a rather successful one. Buffy and Spike had taken the Potentials out for another training lesson, they had barely arrived at the first graveyard for the evening when a half dozen fledglings awoke, attacked, and were easily dispatched. The next two hours moved quickly, with all of the girls performing beautifully. Their confidence in themselves was growing; they were learning to trust their instincts more and more each day.  
  
Buffy exhaled deeply as she pummeled the heavy bag ruthlessly. After their eventful excursion the girls had begged for a nice night out, just to blow off steam, Buffy had just shrugged, remembering how exhilarating it was her first few times out, and so she had let them go off to the Bronze with Xander and Anya. Kennedy had stayed back to work on some research with Will and Giles. Dawn was on the couch, popcorn in lap, having claimed she was too tired to attend, and so stayed behind watching movies.  
  
After a few more attacks on the unsuspecting bag, Buffy sighed heavily, dropping her arms, wanting a live target to aim at.  
  
"Need a Partner?" She heard the vampire's cool voice ask as he leaned his body down the stairs, looking for approval one way or another. She had not realized he was even still here, but sometimes it seemed he just knew what she needed. She just shrugged, *Not live, but close enough* "Sure why not, Spike" a small smile grazing her lips.  
  
He moved fluidly into the room and the two began sparring without another word. They matched each other blow for blow, neither one of them definitively on the offense or defense. Dancing. This went on for quite awhile before Spike gained a slight advantage as he advanced and swept her legs out from beneath her. She parried easily and instead used her momentum to nail him with a scissor kick, sending him flying on his back, landing with a thud. She then sprung back up and in moments was crouched over his chest, her hand formed over an imaginary stake, posed for the final assault. Her green eyes danced delightedly as sweat beaded up on her forehead, "I win."  
  
He just looked at her, his unneeded breathing quite labored from the exertion, his blue eyes seeming to swell with pride momentarily, a slight sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "You always do, pet."  
  
Their eyes remained locked for a moment that lasted a lifetime, as slowly their breathing became more regular. Spike taking in the view of her overtop of him, *God, she's beautiful*, as he listened to her heart slowing back to its usual rhythmic pace. How he loved her, everything about her, just being this close was. . .unbearable, in the sweetest of ways.  
  
"Spike. . ."  
  
Her head had titled ever so slightly, fixed on his eyes, and the slight smile that still played on his lips. She reached out a delicate hand, brushing a stray bleached blond curl back into its proper place, letting her hand linger by his forehead, the cool of his skin against her own hot flesh soothing. He moved his hand up, brushing her hand away ever so gently, never taking his eyes from hers. A moment later his hands were on her hips, as she remembered them having been, vividly, so many times before. Only this time was different. This time he was lifting her off of him. Before her mind had even registered the exchange she was on the floor and he was halfway up the stairs. "Spike?" her voice wavering, betraying her confusion without her really intending it to do so.  
  
He stopped, his back to her, head hanging down. He looked over his shoulder, but did not meet her gaze. "Yes, Buffy?"  
  
*I'm sorry, a thousand times I'm sorry, If I could only make you understand what was going through my mind, how I felt, how I still feel sometimes, I. . .* "Good match" was all she said.  
  
That same smile crossed his lips, but the spark was gone from his eyes, "Anytime, Slayer," a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he moved through the door, "Anytime." With that, he was gone. 


	2. Winds

Chapter 2: Winds  
  
((A Note: Thanks to all of you for the reviews, they really made my day :- ) ))  
  
The next few nights had moved by in a kind of blur; training in the morning, work all day, training in the evening, work all night, and all the time, always waiting.  
  
Buffy's head was starting to pound; she rubbed her eyes with her palms, trying to find some center of calm. It would figure, that as soon as she decided to hunt this thing, it would run off into hiding, biding its time knowing they would go lax. As all humans do, eventually.  
  
It didn't help matters that she knew she was doing just that, going lax. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the previous night's sparring match with Spike. How they moved together, the look he got in those cobalt eyes when he thought he had gained advantage, the look he got when he knew he hadn't. She couldn't help smiling for a moment. *God why do I let him get to me. Even now, after everything. Still, he gets to me.* She thought to herself. *Because I let him.*  
  
"Damn it!" She huffed out, searching the kitchen for the Tylenol she knew she had, but for some reason had gone into hiding as well. "Dawn! Did you take the rest of the Aspirin?" She called up to her sister, but only got a muffled response. She started up the stairs, calling Dawn again, when she ran smack into Andrew, sending him onto the floor. "Andrew, what, what are you doing? I thought I told you to stay downstairs?" She placed her hands on her hips in annoyance.  
  
"Uh, I, I was. . ." Coughing nervously, he lifted up his hand, the AWOL Tylenol in his palm.  
  
"Oh, uh, thanks." A look of utter confusion on her face, as she took the bottle from his hand, and headed back down the stairs, glancing back, and thinking for a moment that Andrew had been coming from Dawnie's room. She just shook it off, *weird.*  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------  
  
Buffy was standing on the edge of a precipice, the dark colors of night swirling around her, mingling with the wind, pulling her hair in all directions. The crashing of waves pulled her gaze downward, past the flowing white cotton dress that was draped around her, her bare feet moving ever so slightly, pushing bits of dirt over the edge, into the dark fathoms below. The temperature of the air around her warmed ever so slightly making her feel as if she had been enveloped in loving arms. She crossed her arms holding herself close, her tired eyes closing, and listening to the sounds of the wind.  
  
That's when the voices began, like a thousand tiny pinpricks all over her skin, making her flesh quiver at the touch. Slowly, at first, the noises licked at her causing an unconscious shudder to flow through her body. Moaning softly, her head tilted backward, the wind plying at her, fingering the skin of her neck, making her gasp. A hot bit of breath reached her ears, "It will consume you."  
  
In a cacophony the voices rose, unintelligible mostly, but always with the same feeling of dread, of impending doom. The air grew hotter as the earlier winds turned into maelstroms, her body being assaulted from every direction. She grasped at her head, the pounding inside unbearable as the wind and the voices battered her from all sides like a doll.  
  
Then again soft as the whisper of her once lover, "It will consume you, all of you, and then. . ."  
  
Nothing.  
  
The world around Buffy exploded violently.  
  
"NO!"  
  
-----------  
  
Buffy shut up from the kitchen counter, her body shaking in fright. Somewhere in the distance, no, no just by her side, could be heard the sound of Willow's voice, "Buffy? Buffy wake up, you're having a nightmare." The redhead looked at her friend, her hand resting on her shoulder, concern flooding her eyes.  
  
Buffy just looked at her comprehension setting in,  
  
"What the. . ." 


	3. Strolling

Chapter 3: Strolling  
  
Buffy's pale face glanced around the kitchen, feeling hung-over of sorts. The concerned face of her friend just stared blankly at her as the others that were in the house moved into view quickly, having heard the scream.  
  
The scared voices of the potentials filled the room:  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Is she okay?"  
  
"Are we gonna die?" Vi's quivering voice asked, her eyes round with fear.  
  
Willow shook her Head, "No, Vi, no one is going to die," glancing worriedly over at her friend, her voice shaken, "are we Buffy?"  
  
Buffy just glanced around the room, noticing Dawn standing silent and frightened by the door, she just shook her head, regaining some composure. "No." Looking first from Willow, then to Dawn, and over the group of potentials, "at least I don't think so." Some color was coming back into her face. "It was just a dream." She lifted an eyebrow at the SIT's, letting them know she wanted no more questions. "It was just a dream, that's all."  
  
"Now please, go back down to the basement and continue training, I'll be down soon. Okay?" The slayer's voice was firm, and the girls moved back downstairs. Only Willow and Dawn remained behind. It was Willow that broke the silence.  
  
"Buffy, are you sure it was just a dream? I mean you know. You. Dreams. Prophecies. All that fluffy stuff? You sure it didn't mean anything?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her chest, looking at the two of them. "No, I'm not sure, but. . ." Her voice trailed off. "It didn't make any sense, not really. I need to get some air, clear my head." She didn't wait for a response, in two steps she was out the back door.  
  
As soon as she was out of their sights, her whole body shivered. Her nerves were all shot, the memory of the dream was fading quickly, but the feeling it had placed in her remained, and she couldn't shake it. She wasn't sure why, but she just didn't want to talk about it with them, not yet at least. Not until she knew if it meant anything.  
  
She had gotten so lost in her thoughts as she walked through the back door and to the gate that she hadn't felt the familiar presence of the vampire as he approached. So lost, in fact, that she visibly jumped when he spoke, causing her to shiver once more, but not causing her to break her stride.  
  
"Slayer, you okay?" His voice was laced with concern as he began to move in time with her, "It's not healthy to walk in your sleep you know pet, all kinds of nasties just waiting to sink their teeth in you, you know." He would have smirked if she had given any inclination that she had heard a word he said, but the only acknowledgement she gave was a slight, hmm.  
  
Her grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him, looking right into her, "Bloody hell, Slayer! Snap out of it. What's going through your bleedin' skull?" He held her gaze for a moment as she seemed to finally realize he was even there.  
  
"Spike?" *Yeah Spike, of course Spike, always Spike.* She thought, slowly her mind drifting back down to her body. "Sorry, I was just," She shrugged.  
  
He lifted a scarred eyebrow at her, "Out for a stroll?" The old smirk playing on his lips again as he realized she would be fine.  
  
A slight chuckle in her throat *Why could he make her feel better?* "Something like that." She smiled lightly, realizing that he was right; walking around like that she could get herself killed, or worse.  
  
They walked a few more paces in silence, before she stopped at a bench, leaning against it. "I had a dream, a strange one. It just had me a little out of sorts."  
  
He sat himself down on the backrest of the bench, feet planted on the bench itself, absentmindedly twining and untwining the fingers of his hands. "That bad, eh?" He titled his head towards her, thinking she even looked beautiful under the dankness of the streetlight. "I've had a few of those myself lately. Bad dreams. Always come when you least expect them and when you least need them it seems."  
  
She glanced over at him, gauging him momentarily, his features appeared softer then they use to, the subtle look of longing in his eyes. She turned her head away from those eyes, glancing up towards the sky. "Tell me about it." She breathed out, agreeing with him, and then for no reason she could really see, she began telling him what she remembered of the dream, separating herself from it as she spoke, making the memory less personal somehow, and more like a rerun of some bad TV show.  
  
He just listened intently, watching her, breathing her in as she spoke, having missed her talking to him like this. *Like a friend.* Like someone she trusted. *God, could she trust me like that again* He hadn't thought it would be possible. Helping her out with the little birds was one thing. He served a purpose then, a bright shining example of the Big Bad. Silently he chided himself; no she wouldn't trust him like that for a long while, if ever. But times like this at least gave him hope. Inwardly he smiled.  
  
When she was finished her tale, he asked the question she least thought he would. "So tell me pet, any particular reason you were sleeping on the kitchen counter in the first place?""  
  
"Oh, well, I had a headache, so I took some aspirin." Backtracking a minute, "well first I had to find the stuff, seems Andrew had pilfered it for his own. . ."  
  
It dawned on her, "Andrew." The word came out like a cursed whisper. "If he did anything to those pills," anger filling up her voice, but the things she would do to him if he had tried anything were to numerous to name, she stormed back towards the house.  
  
Spike could practically see the steam billowing off of her. *Oh, this will be fun, * Spike chuckled to himself and headed off at a trot after her. 


	4. Irate

Chapter 4: Irate  
  
(Note: This chapter takes place immediately after chapter 3: Strolling, but the story will continue as if episode 7x13 "The Killer in Me" took place with Buffy choosing to have Spike's chip removed. That is all, enjoy.)  
  
Buffy threw the door open, stomping full force into the kitchen. Lucky for her Andrew was at the counter with Dawn. Not even breaking her stride, she moved to him, grabbed him by the throat, and pinned him to the wall. "What did you do to me!" she roared at him. Her green eyes glazed over with fury.  
  
He sputtered at her, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he had been eating catching in his throat.  
  
"BUFFY!" her little sister shrieked from behind her trying unsuccessfully to pry the Slayers hand from Andrew's throat.  
  
"Stay out of this Dawn.' Buffy hissed through clenched teeth, "This is between me and young Geekwalker here." She cocked her head at Andrew waiting for a reply.  
  
Andrew's face was starting to turn a slight shade of purple while everyone else filtered into the room, Spike leaning in the open doorway, watching his girl with a bit of concern, but mostly with satisfaction. Not interfering, seeing as how he wanted to see where this would go.  
  
"Well, Andrew," she drawled out his name, squeezing his throat a little to let him know she was serious, "Explain yourself."  
  
"Umm, Buffy," It was Xander's voice who answered. "Somehow I think he might be less inclined to respond if you pop his neck up like a Pez." He shrugged towards her, a little pleadingly.  
  
Realizing the logic of this statement and combining it with the sickly look on Andrew's face; she loosened her grip on his neck, letting him slide back down the wall till his feet could once again touch the floor. Her hand was still pressing on his Adam's apple, however, just enough to let him know he wasn't getting away.  
  
"Talk," she ordered impatiently.  
  
"W-What, I don't know what your talking about. I didn't do anythi-," He whined at her, the last part of his words turned into a whimper as she tightened her grip again.  
  
"Wrong answer."  
  
"Buffy," This time it was Dawn's voice that broke the silence. "What do you think he did exactly?"  
  
Buffy cocked her head towards Dawn briefly, before turning back towards Andrew. "So, Andrew. You been enjoying your time here, plenty of warm bodies swarming around you, keeping you nice and distracted from your pathetic role in the First's little plan, huh? Long cry from that dank lair you and your now very cold friends murdered people in, making plans to take over our lovely little burg here, isn't it?" She nodded her head a bit for emphasis.  
  
"Not people," His voice was downcast, still managing to contain that ever present whine, "And that was all Warren, we, we didn't want to do that. It just."Andrew was having a hard time meeting her eyes, the pressure on his throat not helping him greatly in that matter. He pleadingly glanced towards Xander, hoping for another reprieve, but got none.  
  
Buffy forced Andrew to look up. "No it wasn't all Warren, Warren was long dead before Jonathon went cold." She paused a moment, her rage no longer boiling at the surface, but instead simmering just below. "The aspirin you gave me, Andrew. What. Did. You. Do. To. It?" She emphasized each word, so that there would be no mistaking what answer she was looking for. "Awfully convenient how you had it at the ready, just waiting to hand to me when I finally came looking." She squinted her eyes at him, voice hushed a little bit. "How did you know I'd been having headaches, hmm, Andrew? You been planning this, all along? Waiting for the right moment?" Her eyes darkened, and her voice returned to a snarl. "Answer me."  
  
"I, I didn't, Dawn. . ." He said her name pleadingly, looking for help. Buffy's gaze shifted momentarily towards her sister in time to see her shake her head in response.  
  
"Buffy, he didn't do anything to the aspirin. I gave them to him. I heard you shouting and slamming the cabinet doors. No way to miss it, slayer strength and all, you sounded like a Mack truck when you came barreling up the stairs. He was headed downstairs anyway, so I gave him the aspirin, which was in my room by the way, and asked him to give it to you." She explained all this quite matter of factly, sounding like a parent talking down to an irate child, which was appropriate, seeing as how Buffy was acting like one.  
  
"Oh. . ." Buffy's voice trailed, and she almost released her grip on Andrew's throat. "What was he doing in your room?" Then not waiting for an answer, "What were you doing in her room!" She threw him on the floor a moment later. "You stay away from my sister, or so help me. . ." She glanced back at Spike, then back towards Andrew, "Or Spike gets to have a nummy treat." She gave him an, oh so sweet smile and stomped off into the living room, not seeing Dawn drop to the floor to help Andrew up, and check his throat.  
  
"Wow, she went all Emperor on me," Looking up at Dawn, "In Jedi, just before Vader kil-"  
  
"Andrew, remember what we talked about?" She nodded her head at him.  
  
"Yeah, no referencing movies or comic books of any kind where anyone can hear me." He droned out like a trained dog, sighing, he took her offered hand as she helped him up. 


	5. In Dreams

Buffy sunk on the couch, bitterly aware of how foolish she must have appeared, but not really caring all the same. Slowly the masses began to filter into the living room with her. Willow and Xander coming to sit by her side. Both of them with looks of concern plastered on their faces. "You okay?" Willow asked as she patted her friend on the shoulder, Buffy's head in her hands as she rubbed her eyes once more. She looked up smoothing her hair out as she did.

"I'll be fine. I just…" She looked up at the now filled room. Giles had brought home two more potential slayers, and with Amanda that brought the total up seven. She was going to need Xander to build another bathroom soon. Sigh.

"It was that dream Will, its got me feeling all," She moved on the couch like her skin itched, "All bumpily." She shook her head once more, placing her hands on her knees and pushing herself off the couch. "Something's coming, and soon. We need to get into serious research mode." She saw the expression on the faces of the Scoobies around, "Okay, more serious-er…I don't know what exactly the dream was," She met Giles gaze, "It didn't feel like a usual Slayer dream, it was so," She clasped her hands together, and then dropped them at her sides, as she plopped back down on the couch. "I don't know exactly, something was just different." She sunk her head into her hands; feeling waves of exhaustion sweep away the last vestiges of willpower she had left. "I need to rest."

Everyone nodded, looks of concern on all their faces, as she began to head upstairs, Giles voice stopping her, he moved towards her on the stairs, 'Buffy, I know that your tired and that you need your rest, but it might help us with the research if we knew what you dreamt about." She just shook her head.

"I can't right now Giles," Then seeing the look in his eyes, like she was in grave danger of a good old fashioned watcher lecture, she added; "Ask Spike, we talked about it, al- already. He can tell you want you need to know, not that I think it will help any." She found herself glad once again that Spike was around. Before Giles could respond she used the last of her strength to climb into her bed, stylish boots and all, and was soon unconscious.

* * *

Spike sat down with a mug of blood and explained what Buffy had told him to the Scoobies. The potentials, except for Kennedy who was by Willows side, were already down for the count, one way to get their constant yammering to stop was the mention of research; he'd have to remember that one for later. Andrew sat at the end of the table, an ice pack over the bruises the slayer had made over his recently healed bite marks. Spike smirked slightly as he finished the tale and quirked an eyebrow in Andrew's direction taking a sip from the mug. The kid might have been trying to make amends, but he'd been in Nibblet's room, and that left him on the far end of Spike's bad side. Curious though, Spike had always thought the kid was gay, Hrmph, Make him wish he were if he lays a hand on my Nibblet. Spike's gaze had landed on Andrew, the demon in him gazing at the boy like the nummy treat Buffy had said he could be. 

"Hey, quit looking at me like that!" Andrew whined. Everyone turning to look at him, and Spike's expression changing sharply as his new soul beat the demon into submission.

"Oh, uh, sorry, I," Spike stumbled on his words. Dawn glaring at him, her eyebrow cocked.

"Nummy treat, huh, Spike?" Her voice laced with venom. All Spike could manage out was a half gag half chuckle.

'N_o_, I, was just noticing the pretty pattern your big sis left on his neck," He tilted his head, "Kinda looks like a snowman," he stated, sounding very serious.

Willow piped in looking at Andrew's neck as well, "Oh, or like a bowl of grape jello." She sounded very pleased with herself, "Except without the jiggles," She glanced at Kennedy who was smiling behind tired lids, and squeezed her hand.

"Yes, quite," Added Giles, not looking up from his book as he cleaned his glasses. "Perhaps we should turn in for the night. We aren't going to accomplish much if the most useful thing we have to study is the 'pretty pattern' on Andrew's neck." He sounded annoyed, they had spent the better part of two hours trying to find a way to tie Buffy's dream in with any of the records they had of the First, but so far no such luck. Maybe she was right, and the dream had been senseless. Somehow, though, Giles didn't think so.

Everyone agreed it was time to turn in, and they all moved off to their respectful resting places, weaving through the bodies of potentials strewn on the floor as they went. Xander took his place on the couch beneath the window that could not be fixed, looking with longing as Anya curled up in the comfy chair, her feet stretched out over the ottoman, already fast asleep.

Spike headed down to his cot in the basement, chaining himself to the wall as he prepared for another restless night, replaying his last few encounters with Buffy in his head. Friends. He snorted. "In my dreams maybe." He then, very uncharacteristically for a vampire (Not that he was much of one anymore these days) he drifted off to sleep with the moon still high in the sky.

* * *

Buffy was sitting in a plain white room, the lights so bright that they should have been blinding, but for some reason they weren't. Instead she felt a sense of calm come over her, as she leaned back, eyes closed basking in the glow. She drifted off for a moment before rousing again as she heard the light patter of footsteps as someone approached. She glanced up and saw, herself. "What the…"

"I could say the same for myself, but" She shrugged, "Its your dream, so anything goes."

Oh, how stupid of her, she was dreaming, and hadn't known she was dreaming, but now she did and…God, I can't even relax in my sleep!

"Nope, you don't have the luxury of relaxing anymore, Buffy. You have work to do." The other Buffy crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring placidly back at herself.

"I always have work to do," The real Buffy, or at least, the dreaming Buffy, plopped back down, exhaustion coming over her in nauseous waves. Oh, God, she felt sick.

"Yes, yes you do." The other Buffy took a seat beside her. "But…" Her voice trailed, "You do need to let yourself go from time to time. Take a breather."

"I don't have time to be all breathy." She looked up at herself, almost surprised to see sadness there, and not the least bit perturbed that she was conversing with herself. It felt, kinda, therapeutic.

The other her chuckled, "It would do you good. How are you supposed to function when it's all slay no play? Hmm? Tell me that." She stood up, moving across the room. "Besides, it's not like you've got all the time in the world. Hell, you could be dead by tomorrow."

"What?' Am I dying, why am I dying?" She called out to the ceiling, "I just wanted to rest, what the bloody hell is wrong with that!"

"Bloody hell?" The other her quirked an eyebrow. "When did we start saying that?"

"Right 'bout the time I started talking to myself. Besides, what difference does it make; I'm supposed to be dreaming. Thing is, I don't want to be here, so way am I still. I just want one night of undisturbed rest. Just one." Glancing back to the ceiling, "Is that _so_ much to ask?" she dropped her hands to her side, before hugging her chest slightly, rocking back on her heels. Her normally bright eyes dull from the effort.

The other Buffy looked back at her, "Don't know why, maybe you just need to sort things out for yourself. Learn to let go. You aren't dying. Not at the present anyway. You will though. All those speeches you've been making to the girls, about how they are all going to die. Well, you aren't immune to that." She shook her head. "And the next time you go, it'll be your last. No one's going to bring you back that time. I think you know that." She shrugged as the dreaming Buffy joined her on the seat once more. "It's just a question of when, and I think we both know it won't be that long. You aren't going to get the luxury of a long life. You won't get to see Dawn grow and have children. You'll never have children yourself. You've got anywhere from an hour, if the First or a sudden case of Ebola comes around, to maybe ten years, max. That's it. You should learn to enjoy the moments in between the fights. There won't be many left. Especially not with the way you've been working yourself lately. Making yourself so tired that you can't even focus on a Slayer dream enough to see it for what it is." She stopped taking a breath.

"Is that what this is, a Slayer dream? Cause it has got to be, by far, th-"

"No, God girl, not this dream. This is just you getting in touch with your inner Buffy." She shook her head, a frown on her face. "No, no, not this dream. The other one…"

The dreaming Buffy cocked her head towards the Inner Buffy for just a moment before she was thrown very forcefully from the room. She nearly cried out, but her breath was pulled from her as she found herself on the same precipice as before, staring down into a void.

Nothing, there was nothing. All the way down, down, down, she strained to look, the winds buffeting her from all sides before…

It caught her off guard. The swelling of yellows and blues, pale purples, and greens all swirling together like a giant neon sign.

"Oh."

She watched from the edge as the mounds of energy came pouring forth. Faster and faster. The sound of them deafening. They swirled up and out as she just stood and watched. Soon they filled the black sky above her, filtering out. She watched in horror as the ground peeled back, strangely reminiscent of a banana peel. Soon the whole sky was filled with the energy, and the blackness at her feet grew, till there was nothing else beneath her. In fact, beneath her, there _was_ nothing.

She fell.


	6. Awakenings

Spike was unsure how long he'd lain there, drifting in and out of sleep. He snorted as he tried shifting positions, remembering quickly the chains, before settling down to the one position that he was allowed, namely on his back. He knew now that he didn't have to chain himself to the wall when he slept. He had in fact given up on them entirely at any other time of day (or night as the case may be), but he still felt compelled to lock himself up when he slept. He felt more vulnerable then. Maybe it was Xander having referred to him as a "sleeper" agent that had done it, but he just didn't think he'd be able to fend off the First if it tried to invade his mind while he slept. Hence, the continued use of the chains.  
  
He lay there then, staring off into the oblivion that was Buffy's basement ceiling. *How'd I get here? (Snort) Far cry from anything I ever thought I once was. Cowering in the Slayer's basement, chained to her bleedin' wall. And for what purpose really? 's not likely to stop the First if it comes for me again.* It really was a far cry from anything at this point really. He let his mind wander off, thinking about Buffy and their recent sparring match, *God, how she can move.*  
  
A small creak on the stairs caught his attention, he shifted to see better, his lids half closed over his icy eyes. He saw her then; he hadn't realized she'd been so close. She closed the distance between her and his cot quickly, and before he had barely become aware of it, she was sitting up on his cot with her warm skin next to his cold, aching body. A sweet smile graced her mouth, marred only by the touch of sadness that same in the green pools of her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong, Pet?"  
  
She shook her head lightly, her lips trembling so subtly that if she hadn't been mere inches from his face he doubted he would have noticed. She reached her small hand up to his face, softly caressing him. He couldn't help but close his eyes and lean into her warmth. *Oh, god, I could die now.*  
  
A moment passed and he felt her sweet lips brush against his own, tasting oddly salty. He smiled under the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers, breaking the contact as he moved to speak.  
  
"Shh." She silenced him, the thumb of her hand moving over his lips as her mouth traced the line of his face over to his ear, a warm trail of kisses tingling along his face as she went. She nibbled lightly on his earlobe, before placing a small kiss on his neck. His unneeded breath caught in his throat, his voice was no more then a whisper.  
  
"I must be bloody dreamin'."  
  
He could feel her lips upturn into a smile at his words, and was unable to help but smile in return, nuzzling her neck lightly.  
  
"Spike," she cooed softly, a tenderness in her voice that he knew she possessed, but that she had never deemed him worthy of hearing. She placed another light kiss on his neck as she moved back to his ear. The tone of her voice dropping and if he'd had a working heart it would have stopped beating right then and there.  
  
"I love you."  
  
No sooner had the words passed her lips then did the stake pass through his back and into his heart. He gasped for air just as it did, "Knew I could die." And then he melted around her, his body dissolving to dust.  
  
--------- ------------------------------  
  
He shot up in bed with such ferocity that the chains whipped him back down into submission, causing his head to hit the wall painfully as they did.  
  
"OW, BLODDY HELL!" He grasped his head, the aching pain magnified by the still tender spot where the chip had been removed. He took in breaths of air rhythmically, trying to calm himself.  
  
"I knew I was dreamin'..." He spoke softly to no one but the walls, as he relaxed back down into the cot. "Bleedin' nightmares." His internal clock told him it was just a little before sunrise. He laid there in wait for morning, when either Willow or Buffy would come and release him from his self imposed exile. He secretly hoped it would be Willow, still shaken from the dream he was not really up to seeing Buffy just yet.  
  
---------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------  
  
Up in her own bed, Buffy awoke with a start, her California suntanned skin drenched with sweat. Her whole body aching. She felt like she had been hit by a, by a, well she wasn't sure by what. "Bad bed." She slapped the bed lightly before throwing the covers off of her and moving over to the bathroom, she needed a hot shower, figured her mind would get clearer as the mirrors got foggier.  
  
--------- ---------  
  
Buffy rubbed her eyes as the warm water poured over her body, the dreams from the night before coming back in slow pulses. She was replaying the events in her mind over and over again, trying to analyze them. *Damn it!* She was never good at this whole getting in touch with your inner self thingie. Just hand her something pointy and face her in the direction of what she could hack and slash. That was all she was really good for anyways. *Isn't?* She shook the thoughts from her head, drops of water flying everywhere as she stepped from the shower.  
  
"Buffy!" Her sister pounded on the door, bringing Buffy out of her reverie.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You've been in there for like an hour. You have to be completely clean and pruned up by now. There are like a dozen other people in this house you know." Dawn breathed out, exasperated. For the Chosen One of Two, her sister could be really daft at times.  
  
Buffy sighed out heavily, clearing the fog from the mirror and staring into her own reflection. *Inner Buffy, eh?* "Sorry Dawnie, I'm coming out now."  
  
------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------  
  
There was a buzz all through the Summers' house. As everyone had woken and gotten themselves together it had been reveled that everyone had had strange dreams the night before. No one was quite sure what to make of it all. Discussing their various dreams, everyone was shuffling about the kitchen, getting breakfast. Each one filtering out to the dining room as they did . "Hey, Willow"  
  
Willow glanced up at her friend as she finished her breakfast, "Morning, Buffy." She cleaned her plate up and moved to the basement door. "I'm gonna go unchain Spike, see if he got visited by the Sandman last night too." She chirped.  
  
Buffy merely nodded; somewhat comforted by the way Willow had been treating Spike since the whole incident with the chip. She so wanted for him to be able to be a part of the group. She knew he had changed, knew what he could be. But it was just so difficult to make her friends see that. She was glad that it seemed to be happening on its own, at least a little. Buffy moved over to the shutters, pulling them closed as she gathered the few remaining food items and a pint of blood.  
  
A few minutes later Spike was in the kitchen, sitting at the island, rubbing his head. Buffy placed the heated mug of pig's blood in front of him, eliciting a strange look from Spike. "Made me breakfast?"  
  
She smiled at him somewhat, nodding once. "Spike tested, mother approved." She moved to sit across from him at the island, eating her cereal. "Bad dreams."  
  
"What? No I was, well. Yeah." He looked at her shrugging.  
  
"I figured. We all had them."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Every last one of us that spent last night in this house that is." She swirled her spoon in the now flakeless milk, watching the little whirlpool that formed with interest.  
  
"Hmm, well at least we know it wasn't some tainted aspirin." He looked at her, his old smirk playing on his face.  
  
"Hey, it could have-." She rolled her eyes up looking for the lie that wouldn't come, than giving up and going back to her bowl-o-milk. "He was evil you know."  
  
He smiled at her then, playing along. "Oh, yeah, biggest bad that ever there was." His eyes twinkled as he got a true smile out of her, watching her absentmindedly rub her own shoulder. He cocked an eyebrow at her then, noticing the tension in her body.  
  
"You alright, pet?"  
  
She met his honest gaze, the dream flooding through her once more. "Yeah, rough night." 


	7. Wanna Dance?

((Note: As before, this story is still taking into account everything that happens on the show. So spoilers up through and including "Get it Done" for this one. Enjoy, and please, pretty pretty please with anything you want on top, review. I'm dying for some input. Even if it is of the negative persuasion. I can deal. Really, I'm very thick skinned. ))  
  
Buffy knew he was in the basement. She'd like to think it was her slayer powers that screamed: 'Vampire this way!' but she knew it wasn't true. Once it might have been merely that, but that had changed long ago. Somewhere along the line she stopped receiving the usual generic warning sirens when she came near him and they were replaced by much more personalized ones. Ones that tugged gently on her sleeve like a small child saying, 'Hey, Spike this way.'  
  
A small shiver ran from her toes up through her spine, culminating at the base of her neck as she approached the door, her small hand barely touching the knob. She hadn't spoken to him since she came back from the insane vision quest the night before. She knew, from what Willow had told her, that the demon that had been sent in her stead Spike had killed. She had also noted the return of that oh so famous duster of his, and shuddered, wondering if her brutal words had brought that on. It wasn't that she felt guilty for what she had said to him, or at him as the case may be. She had in fact meant every word of it. What they needed right now was an army. A brutal, bare knuckled army. They weren't going to get there if every last one of them didn't give it their all. *It's not enough*  
  
She pushed the image of the First Slayer and the accompanying one of the raging army of Turok-Han from her mind, right now she needed to deal with the issues at hand. Make sure everyone was ready for what was coming. *If that's even possible. No, no negative thoughts.* She mentally put up a no vacancy sign in her head.  
  
She began to catalogue the events over the last few weeks. It had been nearly three weeks since the whole since the whole Sandman-y issue. The little prophetic dreams that had gotten everyone in a huff, but had ultimately lead to little more then another pile of dirt in her back yard. Her eyes became wet with the memory. This was what the First had been trying to do, suss out there weak points, figure out were to pierce their skin, and which direction to twist the knife. Well it had worked. Chloe was dead and anyone of them could be next. She doubted very much that her little "inspirational" speech the night before had done much to reverse the effects the First was having. Amazingly out of the two people it had contacted directly, Chloe was the one to give in, and Andrew *Andrew?* had been able to resist. She shook her head at that thought. *Gotten give the little twerp credit where credit is do. Maybe I should take another look at his big board.*  
  
Her thoughts trailed off momentarily remembering Wood's reaction to their little hostage. *Wood. Hmm.* She began to wonder if he had any visits from the First, or any unpleasant dreams that he couldn't quite make heads or tails of lately. She'd have to ask.  
  
She shook the thought, away, realizing with an almost smile that she had been so lost in her.*Brooding?* that she had been standing with her hand on the doorknob for nearly five minutes. She sighed heavily, *Time to get with the movin' Buffy.*  
  
--------- ------------------------------------------------------------------ -----------------  
  
Spike pounded relentlessly on the heavy bag, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He knew she was there. Jesus, how could he not. He could sense her common, even if he hadn't been able to pick up the delicious smell of her shampoo from a mile and a half away. It permeated the whole place, but was always strongest when she was near. And she had been near. For nearly five minutes now. Just standing there at the top of the stairs, torturing the shit out of him with her mere presence. *Why can't the bloody bint just leave me alone just once.* He snarled, pounding into the bag again, wishing she would just go away.  
  
When he finally heard the knob turn, and the creak of the stairs, he slowed, grabbing the bag as he heard her approach and then stop a few steps from the bottom.  
  
"Got somethin' on you mind, Slayer. Or are you up for another round of 'Kick the Spike'?" He moved to his makeshift bed and grabbed his smokes. Lighting one up, making as much effort not to look in her direction as he was in keeping his demon down. *Bitch'll be the death of me.*  
  
He heard her shift on the stairs, finally addressing him. He turned then, the bitterness he felt very plain on his face.  
  
"Spike, I." She thought briefly then, deciding maybe talking wasn't such a great idea at that time. She moved off the stairs and onto the main floor. "I'm not here to play 'Kick the Spike' at least, not in the traditional sense." She glanced at the floor, before looking back up at him, "Well, not that there really is a traditional sense, considering it's not actually a game or anything." She caught the look of utter annoyance on his face and stopped. "Wanna spar?"  
  
At that, his old smirk crept on his face. He took a long drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the floor and squashing it out. "Love to, Pet."  
  
They both moved forward then, falling quickly into their old dance. This really wasn't what Buffy had come down here for, but at the moment she was having a hard time remembering what had been the reason, such was her memory these days. She got so caught up in the thought that she completely missed the left hook that nailed her in the jaw, spinning her away from him as he danced back again, moving deftly on the balls of his feet.  
  
A chuckle escaped his throat and he began in his singsong voice: "Someone isn't on their game."  
  
She merely growled in response and launched at him, throwing a double roundhouse, which he blocked, followed by a left-right jab, which he didn't. She grinned as she drew blood, licking her thumb as she danced back herself this time. Tilting her head; "You're right, someone isn't."  
  
With that the match was on. They both moved fluidly, countering each other as only they could, each missing a few blocks here and there. Both of them had open wounds now, but they were minor, considering the damage they were truly capable of doing.  
  
Buffy was moving in, confidence brewing inside her as she was clearly on the offensive now *Got him.* She threw a front kick jab combo, expecting to take him off his feet with the force of the blow she sent. Consequently she was completely taken off guard when he grabbed her hand, crushing the fingers slightly in his grasp as he turned, twisting her body towards him, and nailed her hard in the stomach with a back kick, releasing his hold on her at the same time. The force of the kick sent her reeling back into the wall, knocking the breath from her body and quite a few items off the shelves.  
  
Before she had even had a moment to catch her breath he was over her, a predatory look on his face as he grasped her throat in his hand, his eyes flashing gold momentarily and his demon visage just barely concealed. "I win."  
  
Her shocked eyes meet his gaze briefly as he released her from his grip, and in a flash he had his duster in hand and was out the door.  
  
An almost smile tinged the side of her lips as she held her side, bringing herself to a standing position. She wasn't sure what to feel about this turn of events. Then again when did she ever know what to feel when it came to Spike? It was obvious from his little display that he had taken her words to heart, and it almost pained her to think about that. About how much he took whatever it was she told him to heart. She knew he knew it was true. *Can't love you Spike, you don't have a soul.* So what does he do? He goes out and gets one. A light laugh escaped her lips at the thought. *Need you to be that old murderous bastard again Spike.* So that's what he did. Just about the only thing he never did that she had told him to do, was leave. She shook her head as she headed back upstairs, leaving the mess on the floor where she had fallen. *Damn stubborn vamp,* and for once she was glad. 


	8. Brooding

Spike breathed out heavily, leaning his back against the side of the house. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He didn't know what was worse at that moment. The anger he felt towards the slayer for pushing him this way, or the appreciation. He knew that the time had come for the games to stop being played. The potentials had been training fiercely for weeks, with more of them pouring in every day, and it just wouldn't do to have one lackluster newly ensouled vampire moping about the place. Despite everything he told her, about it being okay for her to go on her date with that pansy demon fighter Wood, it hurt. Not even deep down really. Actually it was pretty close to the surface.  
  
*But then,* and he smiled at the thought, taking a drag from the cigarette he didn't even remember lighting, *She had actually opened up; she admitted that she needed me to be here. Then why?* He was torn. She wasn't ready for him to be gone she had said, which he had taken as a ray of sun in his otherwise dimly lit world. But then she showed up with the pansy again and had flipped out on him for not being 'Dangerous' enough for her. He loved her, he would do anything for her, but this was starting to pull him a little thin. He wasn't sure how many more hoops he could jump through before he got snagged and choked on one.  
  
He tossed the now finished cigarette to the ground and followed it. He slumped down the side of the house, hoping against hope that he could block out the pitter-patter of way too many feet from his head for a few precious moments.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
*Damn* "What is it, Bit?"  
  
She shifted on the porch, looking down at him. *So much like her sister.*  
  
"Just wondering what was with the overly dramatic exit to the, backyard?" She sat on the bottom step, staring up into the night sky. "Just figured with that kind of momentum that you could've propelled yourself a little further away is all." She shrugged, glancing his way.  
  
He sighed heavily, running his hand through his fight tussled hair. "Yeah, well, I never was really good at the whole 'leaving' part. I can storm out with the best of them; I just never know what to do once I get there is all." He shrugged back.  
  
She smiled at him then. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
*Oh, here it is then. Can't possibly want to just check up, always something up their sleeves these bloody Summers. Well, never Joyce.* He closed his eyes at the thought of her before answering Dawn. " 's free country last time I checked."  
  
"Well, it's just that something you said has been bothering me; about the Soul?"  
  
"What 'bout it?" "You said that you did it for her, for Buffy. That it was what she wanted." She paused momentarily, taking a breath, "What did you mean?"  
  
He had trouble containing the bitterness in his voice, "What does it bleedin' sound like I meant?"  
  
"It's just that, I mean, did she ask you to do it, to go get your soul?" Dawn hadn't thought that Buffy would have, *I mean what difference would it make? After all plenty of people with souls did rotten things all the time. Warren for instance. So how would Spike having a soul change anything, it wouldn't change the fact that he tried to rape her. And having one didn't stop Andrew from killing Jonathan.*  
  
"Not in so many words, Bit." He met her confused gaze. "Look I doubt Big Sis would appreciate me discussing particulars with her kid sister. Last thing I need right now is to give her another reason to detest my presence."  
  
Her voice was small in answer, "She doesn't detest you any more then she does the rest of us, Spike." She fiddled with her hands in her palms.  
  
He chortled at that. *Bit's got a point.* "Yeah, well, if it's all the same to you, I'd still rather not. Sore subject and all that."  
  
"I'll bet. Does it hurt?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Does it hurt? I remember Buffy saying that it hurt Angel, getting his soul back. Hurt so bad that when he lost it, he was willing to do anything to keep from getting it back again."  
  
*Bloody Poofter.* He looked up at her, before lighting another cigarette. "Hurts like hell."  
  
"Good." She smiled at his startled expression. He knew she had been pissed at him, but come on and give a guy a break already. "It's not like that; it's just that, now with the chip gone and all, I'm just glad to have something to keep you from making 'Nummy treats' out of our houseguests."  
  
"As long as we're being all honest and chummy, Bit. What's with that anyway? You and funnel cake kid?"  
  
"It's nothing really." She fidgeted slightly then shrugged. "It's just that he really doesn't fit in here. I mean officially he's here because he's a 'hostage' or whatever that means. But he is really trying to help, and no one seems to notice or care. I just know what that's like is all. Standing on the outside, knowing you were once something, and now you aren't anymore." She looked at him to make sure he understood. "He knows stuff too, learned a little bit about glamours and quite a bit about demons when he was with the 'Trio'" She air quoted the word for extra emphasis. "I just think that we could use all the hands we can get when this thing, whatever it is, goes down. I mean really what could it hurt?" She shrugged, and he couldn't help but nod at the logic in her words as he finished yet another cigarette.  
  
"Got a point there, but God damn it if that kid isn't annoying as all hell when he gets going on one of his rants."  
  
She shrugged, smiling, "It's a quirk, you get use to it." He cocked his head at her, not believing a word of it. "Okay, so no, you don't get use to it, but you can ignore, and when that fails, you twist his ear, and he learns to stop after about the billionth time." He chuckled at that. "Like I said, he's trying."  
  
"We all are."  
  
"I guess so." They sat in silence for a few minutes; Dawn eventually was the one to break. "So, uh, how long you planning on staying out here then? Got some good brooding planned?"  
  
"I. Do. Not. Brood. But, yeah."  
  
She laughed at him, it was nice, she had actually kind of missed him, she was still angry with him, but she had missed him nonetheless. "Well come back in before you get all dusty, okay? I'm not about to clean up your mess."  
  
He smiled, "Promise, Bit."  
  
"Good." She headed back inside, and he was left alone with his thoughts once again. 


	9. It's Time

((I know it's been awhile, and I don't know if anyone's reading anyway, but I just wanted to say sorry for taking so long, the end is coming. So I hope you enjoy the rest of the ride. And always remember to keep all limbs inside the vehicle at all times. They are very difficult to replace. That is all.))  
  
The dreams had returned. Well, the actually had never stopped, but no one seemed to talk about them anymore. Everyone just floated by as if their evenings weren't haunted by visions of their end. Blood, anger, pain, frustration. So real they could taste the salt on the air, so many tears. So much hoplessness. Why were they even bothering. They couldn't possibly win.  
  
*You won't win you know. You think the Slayer can help you? Protect you? Hmrph, won't happen, can't happen. She doesn't know what's coming any more then you. But you follow her all the same. Don't you. Good little lapdogs that you are. Shy, fearful that the master's gonna bite. Ah, how pathetic. Tamed, chained.  
  
So go on then. Let her lead you down. You'll burn. Your families. All. All of it. All gone. So much for leadership. Better to turn back, spend what little time you have left in the sun. She can never lead you back into it, you know that. You feel that. You have the choice you know.  
  
Oh? She didn't tell you? Well, of course you have the choice my loves, my sweets. You always have a choice. That is your power.  
  
The power.  
  
Choose.  
  
Choose yourselves.*  
  
The words were slick in their skulls. Every night as the potentials slept they were caressed, made love too. Their skin flushed, pink, yearning for the warm breath that would tickle their ears. Whispering the truth. Like cool liquid, thick and heavy, The scent of it overpowering *Power?* Then just as it would seem too much and they would cry out behind their closed lids for more, *Please, God, more!* It would stop.  
  
Rotting corpses, their corpses, piled high, buried beneath the remains of countless others. Friends loved ones, everyone they ever knew. All buried beneath the blades and fangs of a sea of Turok-Han's. What chance did they have?  
  
But then the images would fade, and the girls would wake. Move to the kitchen, the bathroom, bury their fears, and forget what they saw. Because, if they were to admit. Admit to one another what they saw in those dreams, and how seductive it all seemed, how all they wanted was to run back home and forget. Well, then it would be real. And this couldn't really be real. Could it? All these demons and vampires, evil seals and chosen ones. Hell, they couldn't even get that right. There wasn't a chosen one, there were a chosen two. So what could they know about anything anyway, right? Right.  
  
So the potentials moved through the days (nights) steadfastly, never admitting, never questioning, never hoping. They took their instructions, training, and their Cap'N Crunch and asked for nothing more.  
  
That is, until the day Willow and Buffy announced:  
  
"It's Time." 


	10. Moments

((Okay first shouts out and thanks to those of you who sent me emails and/or reviewed. I do apologize for taking what seems to be my good ol' time with this, but life's been hectic, and I have a point really, I should be getting there soon :- ) This chapter takes into account the events Of Episode 7x17 "Lies My Parents Told Me, with the omission of Willow running off to LA and grabbing Faith. That is all.))  
  
Chapter 10: Moments  
  
She had a vague memory of having been taught once in science class about these little bugs that could skate across the surface of water. Their feet balancing them precariously on top. Something about the water's surface tension snuggly holding itself together and thus allowing the little Jesus bugs to walk on water. She shook her head tiredly, blinking for a few times. Just a vague memory really, but somehow it reminded her of this bustling circus moving all around her. The sense that at any given moment one more bug might land on their already overcrowded pond and tumble them all down into oblivion. The place was just. . .Tense.  
  
Dawn was snapped out of her reverie as some nameless, faceless, dark haired, cereal eating, bathroom hogging, clothes stealing potential bumped her elbow with such force that Dawn's head nearly hit the countertop as her chin's only means of support was suddenly stolen from underneath. "HEY! Watch it!"  
  
"Oops, sorry, didn't mean to," The girl crinkled her nose, "Not much room for the elbows in here I guess." She ducked away at that.  
  
"Geez, not much slayer grace in there I guess." The words were barely a mumble from her irritated throat as she pushed away from the counter and stomped from the kitchen as only a teenage girl could. Just avoiding barreling down the resident vamp in her wake.  
  
" 'eh there, Bit." He swung out of range of the teenager's path. "What little fly got in your soup?" He cocked his head at her, a half smile on his face, knowing that the swarms of potentials where little more then locusts in her eyes at this point. Never good to have so many teenage girls under one roof at a time, much longer of this and the Boxer Rebellion would pale in comparison.  
  
She snarled back at the kitchen, her brown hair whipping around her, as another Potential came whisking by wearing an all too familiar blue shirt. If it was possible Spike believed her crimson face darkened even further. "Do me a favor, Spike, if you see one of these," she gestured emphatically about the house, "Flys, so much as look at my dresser, eat them for me, okay?" She nodded at him and stomped out, grabbing her bookbag and heading out the door and off to school.  
  
Spike just merely shook his head once, strange, that'd be two firsts for Dawn in one minute. 1. She was asking Spike to eat someone and 2. She couldn't wait to get out the door and to school. He laughed to himself, sure sometimes living all the Hellmouth was just this side of Looneyville, but damn if it couldn't be amusing on occasion too.  
  
-------------- ------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------  
  
Buffy stared into the fogging bathroom mirror, her pupils dilating and contracting as she tried to focus. She ducked her head again, cupping her hands in the already steaming water and rinsing her face. Once. Twice. Three times. A silent shudder running through her body, despite the warmth of the fluid, before lifting her gaze to herself once more. The dreams hadn't stopped. But they were no longer vivid. No longer tangible. She was having a hard time remembering them when she woke up now. She just knew that they came. Plying her. Letting her know in so not subtle ways what was to come, what she couldn't stop, or what she couldn't do.  
  
She moved to her room and dressed, paying little attention to what she draped on herself. Her mind was feeling as foggy as the mirror had been. It had been two days. Two days since Wood had tried to kill Spike. Two days since Spike had won. Two days since Giles had left to retrieve another hopeful, leaving behind a very hurt, very betrayed, very angry Buffy. She wasn't angry now though. Sullen, yes and perhaps a tad depressed. But her anger had dissipated once Giles was far enough away that she didn't have to think about it all. Not that she didn't think about it, but she didn't have to.  
  
-------------- ----------------  
  
She had stayed in her room that night for hours, just sitting on the edge of her bed, trying to understand what was happening around her. What was happening inside her own mind. She had fiddled with a silk flower that had belonged to her mother, caressing its petals gently. *Oh, how they love to hurt you Buffy let me count the ways. . .* Why did it seem that in the end she always ended up alone? Tired and cold, and yes, she could admit to herself if to no one else, just the tiniest bit afraid. Afraid of what it meant that they always broke her heart. Afraid of what that said about her. Afraid of what it had made her become.  
  
But a small voice in the back of her mind said she wasn't alone. Said that she didn't need to be frightened. He was still here, changed yes, not the same man that she. . . not the same man, but here nonetheless. With her, because she asked him to be. He didn't deserve to be lumped into the same group. Not anymore at least.  
  
She had gone downstairs at that, and had found him sitting on the back porch, face half cloaked in darkness, the moonlight outlining the rest of him in a pale silver hue. He dragged languorously on the end of a cigarette, a small puff of smoke dancing through the still night air before him. She nearly choked at the sight of him, but years of practice had caught the sound in her throat as she took a seat a few feet away on the top of the steps. How many times had they sat like this in the past she wondered? These where their steps she realized with an almost imperceptible smile. Spike noticed of course. Afterall, he noticed everything about her.  
  
They sat in silence then as he watched her out the corner of his eye. He knew that something how'd gone down with the watcher, had heard him leave. Hadn't bloody cared though. It was taking more restraint then he knew he had not to kill everything that moved.  
  
"I didn't know."  
  
A simple statement of fact. He knew it. She knew it. It hadn't needed to be said, not really. Her reaction back at Wood's having been answer enough. But she wanted to say it, and he wanted to hear it, so they just left it out there, mingling with his smoke for a few minutes.  
  
"I know."  
  
That was it, that was all. They had sat in silence for minutes stretching into hours after that. Neither one willing to move, neither one wanting to talk. It was enough, just being there. For once, it was enough.  
  
-------------- --------------------  
  
Willow and Buffy convened in the dining room, after Buffy finished her shower, for researching, or what could be considered researching given their pitiful excuse for resources at the time. Xander would be around after work, and Kennedy had the girls out back for another training lesson. Andrew bustled about the house picking things up that the girls had left behind, doing his damnedest to be useful while being far, far away from Buffy. He hadn't quite gotten over their little excursion to the school basement yet.  
  
As for Buffy and work? Well she hadn't bothered to go in the past few days. And Robin hadn't bothered to call and ask why. He already knew. There was no way he was going to sever what few ties might be left by bothering her about something as mundane as work right now. No, he'd just hide low for awhile while everyone cooled off.  
  
Willow had been saying something to Buffy about a containment spell when her eyes flickered over the blonde milling about the kitchen. Moving out of her range only when the microwave dinged so he could retrieve his newly warmed blood.  
  
God, she could be so thick at times. What was it that Inner Buffy had been saying? About letting go, enjoying her time here? *Sigh* damned if she could. A small smile tickled her lips, just watching him. So normal at times, yet light-years away. . .*Wait, did I just think in light-years? Ohhh, that Andrew. . .* she mentally chastised herself.  
  
"Buffy!"  
  
"Huh, what, huh?'  
  
"Yeah, something like that. . ." The redhead shook her head at her friend. She knew that Buffy was hurting after everything with Giles. Knew that she was busy trying to keep everyone in the house together and in one piece. But her friend had been losing focus ever so slightly since Giles had left again. This couldn't last, well, not if any of them wanted to be alive afterwards.  
  
"I was saying that maybe I could do a containment spell. I mean we already figure that whatever this is that is going to go down is going to start at the Hellmouth, right?"  
  
Buffy nodded to her friend, her focus back. "Well, it seems the most likely place. What with the seal right there, all nice and shut off, what better place to unleash legions of doom then at the mouth itself since they can't use their handy-dandy little highway anymore." She shrugged. Everyone had been tapping their collective brains for weeks, taking into account what they had learned from Andrew about the seal and the First's role in getting him to open it. Topping that off with a little Buffy vision, seasoned with some Spike trigger, and viola Hellmouth special sauce. So far the best they had come up with was the most obvious thing to everyone. First opens Hellmouth, massive carnage ensues as demons spill forth, world ends. Your usual apocalyptic scenario in the lovely little haven that is Sunnydale.  
  
Willow continued on, "So anyways I was thinking that if we could contain the energy from the Hellmouth when it opens up, sorta like a barrier ya, know? We could at least keep the fight within plausible quarters."  
  
"Until the little bubble you make is bursting with little Demon and Scooby parts all over the place."  
  
"Well, yeah until that. . ."  
  
They both sighed heavily and with that they kept on working.  
  
-------------------- -----------------------------------------------------  
  
Nearly six hours later and they were starting to get somewhere. Somewhere along the line Spike had seated himself in a nearby chair, doing some reading of his own, since training with the potentials was even lower on the least then researching. Not to mention they were working out in the yard, which left his options limited to begin with. While to his own surprise Andrew had started going through Willow's spell books (the ones she wasn't using of courser) trying desperately to remember what Jonathan had taught him about glamours and the like. He figured it could be useful.  
  
The four worked in silence, taking notes as needed. Stopping for food breaks here and there. Occasionally jumping up at some tidbit they'd found, only to have another of the team bury said tidbit under layers of logic. Eventually Xander and Dawn had joined them and things began to pick up from there.  
  
Dawn and Andrew worked over the glamours a little, asking Willow for some advice, Getting a raised eyebrow at first, but once they explained Andrew's intention, the info came more smoothly. Spike had found some info on the uber-vamps next that he brought to Buffy's attention, and Anya, who arrived last, soon quipped in with her random demon lore. Proving, more then once, to be quite useful.  
  
Sometime after the sun set the session was concluded. The potentials having worn themselves out during the day's training, retired to the living room and other assorted places. Buffy and Spike ran through a quick patrol soon after the girls settled in. Dusting about a half dozen vamps and returning home fairly early.  
  
Everyone turned in feeling a little bit more. . .or was it perhaps, less, of something. Whatever the feeling was, it was enough to lighten the heavy mood around the house just enough and everybody got a moments peace that night as they slept. No more, no less.  
  
. 


	11. More or Less

Chapter 11: More or Less  
  
The phone call had come earlier the next day. Willow was needed. Although, she never actually said where. The urgency of the call taking her by surprise and so she left with little more then a 'Goodbye, be back soon, nobody turn themselves into a rat while I'm gone.'  
  
It was a little later in the morning that Giles came back minus the potential he had been seeking. Buffy opened the door after his brief knock, a cold look on her face.  
  
"What, no warm body to take up any more space? Giles, you must be slipping."  
  
Giles moved passed her, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yes, well, I was late, um, getting there. There wasn't anyone left to pick up once I did."  
  
That earned him a mere nod and an "Oh."  
  
They stood there for a moment, Buffy closing the door behind him and crossing her arms over her chest. Daring him to give her a reason.  
  
"Buffy," It wasn't Giles voice, however, that broke the silence but Spike's. He addreseed her as he moved into the room, a couple random potentials behind him. "We were about to do some one on one training in the basement, I thought. . ." His voice trailed off as he noticed the other man in the room. His blue eyes turning a steely gaze as he stopped his forward momentum. "Your busy. Nevermind." He held Giles gaze for a moment then turned on his heel and left. The potentials looking back and forth between the three adults, damning the Powers that Be for placing them with trainers straight outta some poorly written soap opera.  
  
"Spike."  
  
"Forget it, Slayer, I'll take the first leg of it, You join us when you can." He stated as he headed through the kitchen and towards the basement.  
  
Meanwhile, Giles just stood there, watching. A bit taken aback by the vampire's all to cool reaction to the watchers present. Having half expected a snarling vamp to lunge for his throat. He turned to his slayer then. Wishing there was something he could say to make her trust him again. He knew that his alliance with Wood wasn't the smartest idea. Mainly because it hadn't worked, but also because it had managed to have the opposite effect, causing Buffy to trust Spike more and them less. He needed to make her understand. "Buffy,"  
  
She raised her index finger at him, her expression ice, "Don't. Don't even try and explain this away." He started to speak, but she cut him off again, "Or try and apologize, because I will not claim responsibility for what I will do to you if you do. Spike has a soul. You will treat him as such, or you can leave." She waited a moment as this sunk into him. "One good thing about your ridiculous scheme though, Spike's trigger? It's gone. Good old Robin pretty much beat it out of him before he was left with a nasty limp. Now, if you have any interest in helping us at all with this thing, feel free to start sorting through the mounds-o-research we've been digging up, see if anything catches your eye." She turned leaving a stunned Watcher behind her, as she headed to the basement.  
  
-------------------------- ------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------  
  
Giles had stayed. He had also begun sorting through the piles, trying to make sense out of the scrawled notes. Muttering under his breath, "Containment spell? How the hell do they plan to. . .and what's all this rubbish about glamours doing in here? Willow shouldn't need notes on that. . .Oh, so you can kill a Turok-Han with a stake, just need to try harder, hmm." His monologue was broken up by Andrew, who had placed a cup of tea in front of the man, settling himself into a nearby seat. Giles took a sip, before looking up to see who had joined him. "Hmm, thanks."  
  
"Protection."  
  
"Huh? What was that?" Giles queried the young man, his eyebrows knitting together for a moment as he placed the tea back down.  
  
Andrew continued all be it a little hesitantly, "The glamours. The notes aren't for Willow. Dawn was helping me figure out how to do them so that we could, well. . ." His voiced trailed off as he saw the look on the watchers face. The former Trio member's hands moving sporadically from his lap to his side, cocking his elbow and supporting his head, till finally he was standing behind the chair, hands grasping the top rung.  
  
"For during the containment spell that Willow is working on. She, she thinks that maybe we can keep all the bad stuff the First lets out when it opens the Hellmouth, kinda like. . ." He cut himself off, *No movie, comic, or TV show references. No movie, comic, or TV show references. No movie. . .* the mantra played repeatedly in his head but, damn it, if it wasn't his knee jerk reaction. *oh, why can't Xander be here, or Dawn.* He whined to himself before continuing, noticing for the first time that the older man was waiting for him to continue.  
  
"See they figure they can stop the Hellmouth's energy from spreading too far. Keep it locked up ya, know.* he paused, moving to the other side of the table. "That way everyone can fight the, well can fight whatever comes through, in a closed off space. And I figured since I'm no good at fighting." He looked sheepish as he continued. "And raising Demons what exactly be useful, that I could kind stay on the outskirts and help conceal anyone who's hurt, so that they don't become yummy First deserts." He shrugged, still unable to keep sit still; he plopped back down arms stretched out on the table in front of him, hands upturned in a plea. "It's something I can do to help. . ."  
  
Giles nodded, leaning back in the chair with an audible sigh. " I see that, but this spell Willow is looking to do," the thought that this was Andrew he was trying to have an intelligent conversation with barely there, seeing as how no one else was around to listen to him. "Well, it would involve her channeling a lot of dark magicks. I'm not so sure that would be wise. Given her history."  
  
Andrew nodded emphatically in agreement and began riffling through the papers. "She figured that, see." He pushed a paper in front of Giles for him to read. "A counterspell? What's that for? Oh. . ." Realization dawned on the Watcher as he saw for the first time a chance for this to all work out. At least with out taking into what the big eye had said, or the fact that they had no idea when this was all going to take place. But still, it was better then nothing, which was all they had had up till now. "They have been busy haven't they?"  
  
Andrew smiled. "Yeah, we actually all worked for hours together with out even once resorting to violence, well maybe once, but hey, nothing's perfect."  
  
"Quite. So where is Willow?"  
  
--------------- ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------  
  
"No, no, no." Buffy threw her hands up into the air. "What have I been telling you since you got here. Trust. Your. Instincts. Don't try and be all super-girly, because you aren't and it's gonna get you killed." The potential nodded once, her gaze not wavering. Buffuy nodded back to her, glad that she seemed to understand and that she wasn't all limp from losing the sparring session. "Now go on out back and work with the others."  
  
It had been a long morning. And afternoon and early evening for that matter. Buffy and Spike had spent the day training with each girl on their own while the rest worked out back. For the most part the whole lot of them was shaping up rather well, and for that Buffy was extremely grateful. She didn't want to wear the girls out, but she didn't want the all to end up as compost either. She figured somewhere in the middle would be good.  
  
Spike stretched his arms over his head cleaning the room up from the lessons as Buffy sipped some water from a bottle. Sitting down on Spike's cot with him joiing her a moment later.  
  
He was tired of the damn silence. Yeah, it had been nice for a while. When neither of them spoke then neither of them could fuss it up. So he figured that was a good thing. But, he was tired of it all the same. He wasn't the only one.  
  
"So," Talking seemed like a good idea, when she thought of it. Her hands clasping and unclasping as she tried to think of something to say, because she wanted to talk she really did, she just didn't know what to say.*How about the truth for a change?* The inner Buffy offered only to rebutted by a very forceful, *Nah.*  
  
He lit a cigarette. "S'okay, Buffy. We don't have to talk."  
  
*How does he do that?* God, that was eerie.  
  
"I know, it just. . .It feels like we should, clear the air, so to speak of course." She smiled through the smoke now wafting through the room.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. You got that whole breathing issue." He smiled at her, a small bit of warmth to it as he took another drag and stamped it out.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Don't mention it, pet." He leaned back against the wall, sighing heavily. Damned if he wasn't exhausted. * 's amazing how much energy those potentials can drain a man of.* He thought, closing his lids.  
  
Resigning herself to the silence, she leaned back on the wall herself, closing her own eyes, figuring she could at least get some peace and quiet down here for a few minutes before it was time to patrol.  
  
"Still not ready for me to leave." It was a statement of fact rather then a question.  
  
Her voice was small, but steady. "No."  
  
They sat like that for quite some time, neither one very sure who leaned whose head on whose shoulder. Or who placed whose hand on whose first. Or who was the first to drift off to sleep, a stolen bit of warmth here, a hopeful amount of comfort there. Or who needed who more. Not that it mattered. All that mattered really was that they where there and that for a moment they were happy. More or less. 


	12. Old Acquaintances

((Okay slight crossover here, this chapter takes into account the events involving Faith and Angel up to AtS: 4x15 "Orpheus" with a few minor changes since its my story and I can do what I want, so there :-P. This chapter should answer you're question Leanne8582. Enjoy!!))  
  
Chapter 12: Old Acquaintances  
  
An hour passed, tops, before Buffy and Spike awoke, hearing the not so pitter patter of potential feet above their heads as the came in search of dinner. The two bodies slowly extricated themselves from one another, a small smile playing across both their faces. "Hmm, drool," Buffy let a small laugh escape her as she wiped a bit of the saliva from his shirt.  
  
He stayed her hand, giving it a small squeeze. "Yeah, but its Buffy drool, so no harm no. . ." He smiled down at her, before his eyes lifted to the ceiling, "We, uh, we should get up there. Quell the troops before they destroy the place."  
  
"Nothing to worry about, have you seen the looks Dawn's been giving out when they don't clean up after themselves? Not to mention we got a built in butler in our little 'guesstage' there."  
  
Regardless of what they would both rather not do, they did indeed head upstairs, getting some nutrition in them and Buffy taking a moment to shower and change before they split the girls into two groups, each one of them leading a group out to patrol opposite ends of town.  
  
--------------- ------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------------------  
  
Buffy's group was the first to arrive home, the vamp slayage having gone remarkably well with her band of slayerettes. The sight on the couch stopping her in her tracks, her voice barely a whisper, "Angel."  
  
The dark haired vampire rose then, turning towards her, eyes locked on hers. "Hello Buffy."  
  
The moment seemed to stretch on for ages before the blonde slayer shook her head, "What," she then noticed the other new arrival in the room, her face hardening instantly as she took a step forward, "Faith. What are you doing in my house!" The dark haired slayer swallowed, about to speak *Geez, great idea Willow* before a thin hand grasped Buffy's shoulder.  
  
The redhead stopped Buffy's forward movement, "I asked her to come, Buffy." Turning, her friend faced her, "We can use her help and you know it. They're here to help." Green eyes stared into green eyes hoping for understanding, or at least acceptance.  
  
Buffy glanced back at the familiar faces in the living room. Nodding slightly, her jaw still clenched, "Tell me what happened."  
  
--------- -----------------  
  
After sending the potentials away, introductions could wait until later, the story was laid out for her then. She listened attentively, not really wanting to believe that Angel had actually lost his soul again, *Damn, can't we just sew the thing on and be done with it, already.* However, she fully believed that Faith had broken out of prison, and the wound on her neck helped confirm another part of the story, so she couldn't really do much accept nod here and there and occasionally shooting daggers at Willow for not having warned her ahead of time.  
  
She sighed heavily and rose to her feet as the story came to a close and to everyone's surprise, including her own, she walked out. The three left in the room exchanged worried glances as they watched her head up the stairs. Willow made to follow her, but Angel put his arm out to block her way. "Let me, please. I think we need to talk."  
  
"Yeah, well I won't stop you if you're volunteering to be at the top of the brassed off slayer list, that's fine by me." The witch simply shrugged as he headed up the stairs, before she turned to Faith. "So, what to the see what we've been working on?"  
  
The brunette shrugged, "Why not."  
  
------------------ --------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------  
  
Buffy found herself standing in her room looking out the window, a thousand thoughts floating through her mind all at once.  
  
"You, uh, you changed rooms."  
  
She turned to the vampire, those old feelings bubbling to the surface ever so slightly, *Why, me. Why is it always me? Does every girl have to go through this, 'cause I sincerely doubt it.* She nodded to him. Crossing and uncrossing her arms absently as she did. "After Willow went all wonky last year, I switched, didn't think she'd want to spend her nights in the room Tara was killed in. No reason to drudge up old, painful memories." She drug out the words, the double meaning wasn't lost on him, and he simply nodded, taking a tentative step forward.  
  
"That's not what I wanted to do you know. I just thought. . .after what Willow told us, it seemed you could use all the help you could get. Figured one more set of hands could only help matters, even if they were mine. But, if you want me to go. . ." He gestured towards the door while taking the final step to bridge the gap between them.  
  
She shook her head weakly, dropping her face in her hands before running her fingers through her hair, "No, I don't. You're right. We need the help, I just didn't want to drag you into this, and Faith, oh, don't even get me started on her."  
  
He smiled at her then, same old Buffy that he loved. *Always* "She's changed, you know that."  
  
She gestured then, "Yeah, yeah, yeah I know." Meeting his gaze, it was always so easy being around him. "Trust me, I know. It doesn't mean I like it. You know me and my notions; I just can't stand when something doesn't fit neatly inside. So much so that I tend to stomp it and squish it down till does. Makes life simpler that way."  
  
She shook his head at her, cupping her chin, the two halves of his braining warring with each other over how close he was getting to her. He didn't really care though, everything had been too messed up to cloudy lately, but being near her made things seem a little clearer. "No, it doesn't, not really. I think you know that."  
  
She nodded weakly towards him, his one handing caressing her cheek while the other rested on her hip. Her own hands had moved of their own accord and were resting on his upper arms now as she looked up longingly into those eyes she knew all to well. Her voice soft, "I know."  
  
---------------- -----------------------  
  
As soon as he entered the house he knew. He knew *he* was there. He did his best to submerge the anger as the scent assailed his nostrils. He had spent enough time in the house that he could decipher the different scents of the dozens of girls, so the distinct odor of his Grandsire was a slap in the face.  
  
He lowered his gaze looking towards the stairs, sending the girls off to the kitchen for now, before he slowly climbed towards Buffy's room. No real cognoscente thought in his mind as it was taking all his effort to maintain his human vestige.  
  
He caught the last bits of a conversation, the words low but still audible to him, and there was no mistaking the bloody poofter's voice.  
  
"I know" he heard Buffy say as he reached the doorframe, seeing the two in the room, so lost in themselves *and each other, hrmph* that they didn't even notice him. A moment was about the length of time that Spike was quiet as he saw Angel lean in, and Buffy. . .*God, no, why am I seeing this. . .* Buffy leaning up towards him as their lips met in a kiss.  
  
He was frozen. Not a muscle in his body was able to move as he looked on at the two oblivious figures before him. Eventually it was not his body that announced his presence, but his throat, releasing a small unintended growl as the kiss deepened between the two former lovers, the noise loud enough for Buffy to break away slightly from Angel. "Spike. . ." The look on her face could easily be described . . .shock.  
  
Somehow Spike's brain managed to start working again, "Well, well, well the more things change. . ."  
  
"What is he doing here!" The words were barely more then a snarl as Angel's vamp face came forth, the larger man moving to lunge at the blonde in the doorway. Buffy's iron grip on his arms the only thing stopping him.  
  
"Angel, don't" Spike's brain might have been working, but Buffy's was still pulling over time with the barrage of *Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. . .*  
  
In just about any other situation, Buffy stopping Angel from attacking him would have brought a smile to his face, however in the current one, he couldn't quite process the fact that her hands were still on his arms, and his hands were still on her. . .He didn't know whether to laugh, kill, or cry.  
  
The look in his azure eyes as he met hers was enough to crush her. She could almost hear his thoughts; the feelings of betrayal that she knew were going through him, wondering why she had done something to hurt him again, after everything. The knowledge had her locked in place, unable to move for fear of stepping wrong.  
  
An almost imperceptible nod came from him then, before he ventured a glance at the still vamped out face of his Grandsire just before he turned and headed out the door.  
  
"Spike, wait!" She moved to go after him, forgetting about Angel momentarily, only to be slapped back to reality when his hands gripped her tight, preventing her from moving forward. His voice still a growl and not even bother to lower his vamp face.  
  
"What is going on here, Buffy? Why the hell is in your house? Coming up to your room like he belongs here?" He gripped her tighter as she tried to move from his grasp, before she finally slapped his hands away, hard. The shock bringing him back to reality as he let his human face come forward.  
  
She didn't know what to say, so she gave the usual obligatory response, "He's been helping us."  
  
"What? He's a killer Buffy, you can't trust him!"  
  
She rolled her eyes as she broke totally free from him, "God, I think I know who I can trust Angel. He's changed."  
  
"I doubt it, " he snarled.  
  
She cocked an eyebrow at him then, "More so then your precious Faith has."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"He has a soul Angel. Spike has a soul." With that she was out the door leaving behind a very stunned former boyfriend.  
  
--------------- ------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------------------  
  
She caught up with him in the back yard, just before he made it to the gate, grabbing his arm and swirling him around to face her. "Spike, I said wait!"  
  
His whole body was boiling with rage, the emotion clearly evident as he made no attempt to hide it. "And since when do I bleedin' well do everything you tell me too, huh, Slayer?" he cocked an eyebrow at her, "Oh wait, that's right. Got me wrapped round your bloody little finger, musta forgotten. Ain't a damn ting little ol' Spikey won't do for you if you just play your cards right. Hell, half the time you don't even need to play, just be in the same bleedin' room is all." His voice was escalating now as she stared on in shock. "Let's see: Get a soul, Spike!" He mocked her voice, "Went and got a soul. Be bad again Spike!" He tugged his leather duster for emphasis, "Bad once more, Slayer. Sit back while I screw you over, again, Spike!" He stopped seeming to think about that one. Tilting his head. "Nope, sorry, Spikey doesn't play that game. Not anymore." He jerked away from her then, causing her arm to fall to her side as she watched him stomp from the yard.  
  
She sank to the bench after he left, the mantra's of 'Oh shits' still playing in her head as she tried to figure out what to do. He needed time to cool off, she knew that. For the supposed former Big Bad, he was amazingly thinned skin. She knew this just as well as she knew everything else about him. He might play up like the tough guy, but when he was hurting he couldn't see anything else, so focused on the pain he was. Afterall, that's how he ended up with a soul to begin with wasn't it? *Just needs time to cool off,* She just hoped he wouldn't get himself dusted beforehand.  
  
*Shit. Dusted. Angel. Oh, god!*  
  
She bolted back up into the house passed a very confused group of girls and took the stairs two at a time to find that Angel was gone.  
  
"Oh, shit." 


	13. Trails

Chapter 13: Trails  
  
It hadn't been hard to follow the scent of his Childer once he had caught the trail of it in Buffy's room. He had finally caught up with him in a cemetery half way across town, the platinum vamp seeming to move forward with little purpose.  
  
Angel moved ahead of him then, placing himself in Spike's path using the cover of a mausoleum to stay from sight. Spike for his part was oblivious. His anger was beginning to subside allowing the hurt to filter in. He just assumed the he had carried the scent of his Grandsire with him from Buffy's, *Gonna have to burn these clothes to get the Bloody smell out.*  
  
That wasn't what he wished he could burn though. The image of them together was seared onto the back of his retinas. He would stop occasionally, closing his eyes and pressing the palms of his hands into the sockets, to try and release the pain. His curse was for his ears only as he tried to suppress the tears that threatened to fall. "Fuck." He shook it away, sucking a deep breath of unneeded air into his chest, willing the pain away. A small trail of tears following the curve of his cheek bone, reminding him that it wouldn't He wiped at the insolent droplets before continuing on. He took another dozen steps forward before a weight hit his chest and he was thrown back. *Bugger all.*  
  
Angel launched a front kick out at Spike, landing it squarely in his chest, before advancing on him. Grabbing the lapels of Spike's jacket and hauling him up off his feet, the younger vampire making no move to fight back. "I want you out of Sunnydale, Spike, tonight, or so help me."  
  
"You'll what?" The old sneer was back on Spike's face, but he still made no move to break free. "Dust me?" He knew it was tempting fate, but at the moment he didn't much care.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a right hook across the face followed by a knee in the stomach. He balled over and groaned as Angel hauled him up vertical once more.  
  
Angel had Spike pressed against the crypt wall, held up by the collar of his coat. His game face threatening to emerge as Spike scowled back at him, bringing his hands up and tossing Angel's arms from his coat. "Oh, Peaches, you always were one to make your point excessively." He pushed him away and moved from the wall a rant boiling to the surface  
  
"Do you think I don't know who you are, who you really are?" With added venom in his voice: "Do you think I could ever forget? You have always been there, lurking in the shadows, or teaching me a lesson you swore I'd never forget. Well I didn't. I know you Angelus. I know the things you've done. Those things that you can barely live with now." He tapped the side of his own skull knowing how fresh the voices still were for him, "I've seen the real you, much more so then any of your little friends in LA, or Buffy for that matter. You trying to destroy the world killed her. Hrmph. If she only knew what you could really do when you got angry. I'll never forget though. You have always staked claim to anything that was mine. My life, Dru. . .He shook his head, looking down, lighting a cigarette. His icy eyes moved upwards, meeting Angel's. "Buffy."  
  
Angel didn't even bother to try to stifle his growl, "Buffy has never been, and never will be yours, Spike." The name was spat out of the older vampire, the taste of it unsavory in his mouth. Who did this Childe think he was? Angel stalked closer, moving in to grasp the younger's throat, but stopped surprised at the look on Spike's face, the hand holding the burning cig, had dropped to his side, his heavy lidded eyes following it down, watching the ash fall to the ground. A look of pain on Spike's face, his eyes watery for just the briefest of moments, before he met Angel's gaze once more:  
  
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that I have any misunderstandings as to what you mean to her? What I don't mean to her? Do you think I don't see it in her eyes? That hurt and lost expression, because I'm offering her everything she wants; only she doesn't want it from me." His hand was clutching his chest over his abused and unbeating heart. "It's like being under your fists again, I'll never escape you. I lost Dru because of you, I'll never have Buffy because of you, my life has been under your control one way or another since the day I died." He shrugs, dropping the cigarette and pressing it out with the toe of his boot. " 's about time that changed, don't cha think?"  
  
Angel was caught off guard by the seemingly truthful confession of the often irritating, but brutally honest blonde vamp. He checked himself, the urge to defend his actions strong, to point out that Spike never would have had Dru, never would have met Buffy, he thought with a snort. Hell, he wouldn't even still be around if not for Angel. The realization of it all hit Angel then. Ever since he had gotten his soul back (all three times) he had felt sorry for what he had done to Drusilla. For what he had made her turn into, he didn't merely kill her and turn her. He tortured her, drove her mad. All for his own pleasure and devices. But he had not once felt any shred of remorse for Spike, save wishing he had dusted the vampire moments after his turning.  
  
But this. This was unexpected. This was surprising. *But isn't he always? Hasn't he always surprised you? Never a dull moment with him around. Made unlife a living hell, drove me nearly as crazed as Dru from time to time, but that was one thing Spike's always been good at, isn't it?* Angel's demon acquiesced to that, noticing for the first time on his own that what Buffy had said was true. The bastard really did have a soul. *Why?* "Why?"  
  
Spike chortled at that, "Why should I get myself out from under your bleedin' thumb? You've always been a bit thin 'tween the ears Peaches, but I'd of figured even you could of sussed that one out." He pushed off from the crypt he had begun leaning against, not wanting to be bothered any more.  
  
Angel wasn't even fazed, the idea that Spike actually had a soul ceasing and desisting any and all other thought trains from getting through. He merely shook his head, his eyes fastened on the back of the blonde figure as he moved away. "No, not that. Why the soul?"  
  
Spike stopped. His feet suddenly rooted to where he stood. His head sunk, his thin fingers playing with the leather of his coat. His voice inaudible to those without a vampires' amplified sense of hearing: "Do you even need to ask?"  
  
No, he didn't.  
  
"Buffy."  
  
A smile tinged Spike's lips, not that Angel would ever see. "Always."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Jumped through a few flaming hoops, came out all souled up and a tweeny bit singed on the sides." He moved off again not halting this time, "Not as empty headed as I thought you were. . ."  
  
Angel let him go, his mind reeling. Not so much from the fact that he was no longer the only souled vampire in the world, although he was sure Wesley would be intrigued by that. But more from the knowledge that Spike had gotten the soul of his own accord. . . for Buffy. 


	14. Q & A

Chapter 14: Q & A  
  
Back at the house a bit of a hoopla had been raised. First with Spike's all too common these days dramatic exit, then once again with Buffy storming first out, then in, then out again. It was all Faith could due to contain her laugh, *Barrel of monkey's B.*  
  
Willow had taken the secondary slayer into the dining room which was serving as their official research sanctum and had began to show her what they had learned about the First and their ideas when the circus began. The potentials for their part looked like what they were. A bunch of teenage girls all too interested in the strange soap opera that was Buffy and her vampire. All they needed was a tub-o-popcorn and some M&M's to complete the event. This was simply the most entertaining thing they had done in weeks. Which, of course, wasn't saying much.  
  
Spike's outburst in the backyard did not go unheard by the large conglomerate in the Kitchen, or Faith and Willow for that matter. They all stood their unable to avoid eavesdropping, their little party only broken up when Buffy came rushing back inside.  
  
Faith was the first to speak up.  
  
"So, B's still banging the undead, huh? Girls got moxy, I'll tell you that much." She smiled her smile at Willow, receiving a concerned looking disapproving glance back before the redhead decided to go after her friend, only to find that she was flying back out the front door. *Oh, god Wills, way to muss things up,* the witch couldn't help but scold herself.  
  
"Well Willow, you've been holding out on me. Filling my head with all the boring details of the Big Bad when what you should have been giving me the lowdown on this juicy stuff." Faith glanced to thin figure before her. Nodding towards the dining room she continued, "Come on and fill me in, won't help matters if I end up caught in some lover's quarrel without knowing which way to punch." She received a blink in response as they both headed to the other room, leaving the remaining potentials to drift off on their own and weave their own private thoughts.  
  
--------------- ------------------------------------------------------------ ----------------------------  
  
Buffy was stopped in her frantic search for the two vamps when she got a footballs length away from the cemetery the little confrontation had just taken place in and spied Angel, alone.  
  
"What happened?! What did you do, Angel, you better tell me what. . ." Her enraged outburst was cut short by Angels response.  
  
"Don't worry, he isn't dust if that's what you're worried about. In fact he's in just about the same condition he was when you last saw him." He looked dazed, his voice a monotone in the darkness as he came towards her, stopping about twenty feet away, waiting.  
  
She seemed calmer having received this little bit of good news, although she supposed she should be angry that he said Spike was only in almost the same condition, but she let the matter die, only concerned now with what had taken place. Angel seeming to sense the conflicting questions on her face simply shrugged and answered her anyways.  
  
"You were right. He does have a soul." He shook his head holding his hands out palms upward in a silent plea of understanding before letting them drop to his side. "What happened, Buffy? I mean this just isn't. . .he just isn't. . .This didn't happen over night. How long ago. . ."  
  
"You mean when did he get the soul?"  
  
Angel nodded, "Well, that too, but," he sighed then, unsure of so much at that point that he needed to reconfirm the simple fact that he didn't need to breath. "How long has he been here, helping you? I somehow doubt he just showed up when he heard what was going on here, self-sacrifice for the world never seemed to be on his list of must-do's."  
  
She almost smiled, "you'd be surprised."  
  
"I'll bet. . ."  
  
Crickets could be heard at that moment, the silence hanging so thickly in the air.  
  
"After you left."  
  
"What?"  
  
It was Buffy's turn to sigh, not sure how she could explain any of this, least of all to Angel. "He came back, not long after you left. He was mostly just around to annoy us back then, but. . .not so much anymore."  
  
"Because he changed?"  
  
"Yes, no, I don't know." She shrugged moving over towards the cemetery gates, sliding down to the ground, her legs suddenly unwilling to offer her support any longer. "At first I didn't know what to think. He was this monster who tried to kill me and my friends more then once, but, but at the same time he wasn't. Not really. He had his chances, if he had wanted to kill us, me, he could have." She met his gaze now hearing the truth in her own words, "He was different to begin with, it was circumstances that changed. Not him."  
  
Angel sat on the ground by the other gate, still keeping his distance from her, not really wanting to believe what she had said. "And the soul?"  
  
Her voice was tiny this time as she pushed a bit of dirt around with her shoe, watching it swirl around intently, "For me. Last May." She swallowed hard, refusing to look up. "A lot of things happened after, after I came back. It all culminating with Willow nearly destroying the world, Xander stopping her with a yellow crayon, and Spike fighting to get, and winning, his soul. . .all and all it was pretty busy around here." She shrugged it off as if it was just another day on the Hellmouth.  
  
*Yellow crayon? He'd have to ask about that one later.* Angel had a sinking feeling in his stomach. How hard had he himself fought to avoid getting his soul back? What lengths had his demon gone to in order to prevent it from happening? Knowing this, how could he possibly expect to believe, or even understand, why Spike, a demon, would actively go out and fight for his soul? Nothing on this plane of existence could have made Angel do the same. Not even her. . .what could that possibly mean?  
  
"Why did he do it? I know you say it was for you, but what possible reason could he have had?" The confusion he felt was clearly etched on his face.  
  
Buffy's lower lip trembled slightly, her eyes closing for a moment, her heart hurting from all that had happened. She knew what had triggered the decision for Spike, but she also knew that it wasn't that event itself. It was her. It was everything she had ever said, every punch she had ever thrown, and every hurtful thing she ever did. All of it. All of it had caused him to decide that that was the course of action he needed to take. And why? *To be hers* because. . . "He loves me."  
  
And despite every ounce of his demon saying that it wasn't possible. That he couldn't have loved her before he had a soul, he knew it was true. His own soul swore it. Swore that it was self-centered to think that just because he was a cruel, heartless, evil monster, incapable of love without one didn't meant that every other demon was to. He felt his heart tear at the realization of it all, everything Spike said suddenly making a very clear sorta sense. His response was the kind of simple one that would made Spike laugh, if he was around to hear it:  
  
"Oh."  
  
And all Buffy could think was: *Yeah, oh. . .* 


	15. Comfort Level

Chapter 15: Comfort Level  
  
The sheets had warmed to her body temperature wrapping her up cozily in a cocoon of her own making. As she slept her inner mind felt a coolness press against her back. The feeling of ice trailing up the length of her arm, smoothing away her hair, and dancing circles around her neck caused a silent moan to escape from her lips. She felt comforted, soothed, relaxed as she never expected she would ever again. She felt like she'd come home.  
  
He simply watched her, watched as she moved slightly against the cotton covers of her bed. He watched her bury herself down, looking so small and fragile. Watching her sleep, watching her dream, no one would ever suspect how strong she really was. They would never guess the kind of power and responsibility that lay on her shoulders. And what he was sure no one else would see (if they did watch, which of course they didn't, that would have been absurd bordering on stalker), couldn't see really, either because they refused to or simply because they lacked his experience with this particular activity, was just how scared of all of it she really was. He would never let on that he knew of course. He loved her too much to shatter her carefully painted illusion so easily, but he would always make sure that she knew that he understood her. Even if she never bothered to explain it all to him, he still understood.  
  
A small moan escaped her mouth *So exquisite* and he thought that she looked. . . content. She so rarely held that expression that he had a hard time pinning it down at first, but he had seen it before, once or twice, even if it was usually in stolen moments like these. A sigh escaped his own lips then, wishing he could hold her, tell her how bloody much he loved her, read her some awful poetry and pledge his undying devotion (granted most of these things he had already done, but it couldn't hurt to reinforce it now, could it?).  
  
And, oh, how he loved her. His anger had dissipated by the time he was done with the poof, solace replacing it instead. It wasn't that he didn't care about everything that had happened. He had indeed meant what he said. He hated the fact that she tried molding him all the time to fit some preconceived notion of what he should be based on the current role he occupied in her life. Bending and twisting him a little this way, a lot more of that. But he couldn't let her do that anymore, he was nearly broken by it before, he wouldn't survive it again. So this was it. This was who he was, who he would be, and goddamn anyone who didn't like it. He just wished that she would accept him as he was, as the man he was, even if she would never love him.  
  
And his active brain no longer doubted now that she would never in fact love him. Oh, he would pretend on occasion, act as if the little crumbs she fed him added up to more, when really they didn't. It was the look of absolute peace on her face as she kissed Angel that made him realize that all he had ever experienced from her was misplaced affection at best. Nothing more then that. Subconsciously, however, what he knew was an altogether different story. Fragmented bits of a puzzle that when pieced together just so added up to a whole world of more.  
  
The tingling in her spine grew stronger, inching up her neck before screaming in her ear for her to wake up. Slowly she blinked away the sleep, her body focusing in on the other occupant of the room, causing her to stiffen. Slowly she rolled over looking at the silhouetted figure in her window. "Spike?"  
  
" 's me, love. Didn't mean to disturb."  
  
His face was hidden by shadows, but his voice was heavy and thick, falling oh so softly from his throat. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out his features better so that she could gauge his expression, figure out just how much he hated her.  
  
"When did you get back?" The question surprised him; he had half expected a verbal berating for being in her room without her permission. He shrugged.  
  
"Not really sure. An hour, maybe two. Wasn't countin'"  
  
She nodded at that as she pulled herself up to a sitting position, leaning against her headrest for support, but she remained quiet. *Okay Buffy, its time to stop being such a pansy and start talking,* Inner Buffy chided her.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
A simple statement that sent him reeling, the confusion plainly evident, as he titled his head in question, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound escaping.  
  
She breathed in deeply, her eyes closed, "I'm so sorry." And he could see it now, the single tear that had fallen. She lowered her head, not willing to meet his gaze, hoping that he'd come to her. Hold her. Comfort her the way he always did, just being near her. It was selfish, she knew that. Wanting comfort from him when he was the one deserving of it, plainly in need, but she had never been real good with the emotional support.  
  
But he couldn't. He didn't move, he didn't speak, he just leaned back on the window sill, his iced over eyes looking at her, through her, unsure of everything. Not that he was ever sure of much when it came to her. Oh he loved her, he knew that. And she was most certainly the biggest pain to his undead ass that he had ever known. But aside from those immutable facts, the vampire knew very little.  
  
"Why?"  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes scrunching in that adorable way that he loved. He fought the urge to look away. Her confused expression didn't falter, so he asked again.  
  
"I asked why. Why are you sorry, Buffy? You knew what you were doing." The tone in his voice let her know that he didn't just mean Angel; she wasn't getting off that easy. "You've always known. You admitted as much last year after Captain Cardboard made his brief, but highly unwelcomed, appearance." He shook his head, braking eye contact, fidgeting slightly, in need of a cigarette. "So why give two bits 'bout it now?"  
  
Her anger began to rise then, coloring her cheeks. Anger at him, anger at herself, at Giles, Wood, Angel. . .God. The list just went on and on in her mind. But right now at this moment he was in front of her and so she chose to take it out on him. Her voice was controlled, but the flames fueling it laced it with their heat.  
  
"Now?! Why do I give two shits about it NOW! Excuse me." She was standing on her feet now, the bed the only barrier between the two of them. "What part of that oh-woe-is-me brain of yours forgot WHY exactly I ended this," she motioned violently between the two of them then, "thing last year to begin with?" She held his gaze then, arms falling to her sides, eyes questioning, "Yeah, I knew what I was doing. It just took me awhile to figure it at was all." She looked away for a moment, sighing. For his part he did nothing but watch and listen. "Once I did, once I knew," she shrugged, before slumping down to the bed again, the weight of everything too heavy to stand anymore. "That's why I ended it, I told you that. I didn't want to hurt you," Hrmph. "Anymore then I already had."  
  
She waited for a response, her back to him. *Stupid stubborn vampire, say something, throw something, just do something!* But he didn't. So she continued. "I never asked you to get a soul you know."  
  
Her voice was softened by the emotions now playing through her, he watched in abject awe at the roller coaster she had been on since he entered the room, *How the hell does she do that without bloody burnin' out?*  
  
She continued. "It never even occurred to me that you would care. Big Bad. Vampire and all. Says he loves me, but what does he know? Ya know?" She turned her head towards him a bit, not meeting his eyes, before lowering her head again, staring at the hands in her lap. *Shouldn't they be more helpful? Stupid useless hands.* She continued on, almost to herself.  
  
"You just always took everything I gave. And, oh god, the things I did. I knew I shouldn't, but you just took it all, never complained. Helped when I needed it. Even if I didn't want it. And then one day, your bloods covering my hands, and you never fought back, and I just didn't understand. How could I understand? And you forgave me? How? I was so vile. So wrong.  
  
"And then, then you were holding me down, and I still didn't get it. I trusted you, regardless of what I said, I did. You could've done so much worse to me, so many times. But I knew you wouldn't. And then I didn't anymore. And you were gone? Why? Why would you care? How was I supposed to know?  
  
"So I hated you. Hated you for being just one more in the long line of people who left. Who'd hurt me and leave. Not want to stand by and watch what they did to me take its toll. Then you came back, and everything is so different now. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I don't want to hurt you, you don't deserve it. I know that."  
  
She shrugged trying to lighten the now very somber mood, noticing that he had sat on the other side of the bed during her little rant. "Old habits are hard to break I guess."  
  
She met his watchful gaze, a smile touching her lips at seeing him smile lightly at her. He reached over then, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, the warmth of her skin sending rivlets of wonder shooting through his arm, as blue met green. "Yeah, they are." 


	16. Taking Charge

((Been awhile I know, but here's another chappie. Oh and I have fixed the glaring error that was the massive paragraph in the last chapter. Gotta love what writing at 3 am can do to you. : ) Enjoy.))  
  
Chapter 16: Taking Charge  
  
She was tired of waiting. They were all tired of waiting. The potentials were trained. Well, as trained as they were going to get considering the circumstances. The books had all been read. And the studious practice of avoidance had swept the house. Dawn avoiding the potentials, Xander and Anya avoiding each other, Spike avoiding Buffy, Buffy avoiding Angel. The latter wasn't that hard considering the fact that he was staying at the mansion and actually avoiding Buffy, Spike, and Andrew (because really who besides Dawn wasn't avoiding Andrew?). Consequently the two days that had past since Faith and Angel had arrived had been spent by all in a whirlwind of research, training, and patrols. Faith spent, just a bit on the uncomfortably too much side for Buffy, her time with both Spike and Angel, separately of course. Since they were avoiding each other as well. . .  
  
So it came that after yet another grueling dreaming session for Buffy that the decision was made for them all to take action.  
  
------------  
  
Buffy entered the dining room from her patrol, sending the potentials (sans Kennedy of course) off to catch some sleep, and glanced around the table before speaking up.  
  
"Willow, do you have that containment spell ready?"  
  
"I think so, just a few tweaks and pulls here and there, and it should be situated. Why?" The redheads emerald eyes twinkled up questioningly at her friend.  
  
"Because I think its time we make our move. The girls are ready. There isn't going to be enough time for them to improve any more then they already have before the First rears its ugly stolen heads again. If we're going to beat it. And we are. Then we need to take this fight to it. No more waiting."  
  
It was Giles that voiced his disagreement before the others.  
  
"Buffy, do you really think that you'll accomplish anything by leading those girls into a slaughter?"  
  
She cocked her eyebrow at him. "Are you accomplishing anything sitting in that chair today that you didn't yesterday or the day before that?" She snipped back at him.  
  
"Buffy-"  
  
"No! Giles, I'm done. We. Are. Ready. Understand. No more waiting." She turned from him and faced Andrew, not breaking a beat. "Andrew, I have a job for you. Something that Willow and I've been discussing."  
  
At the petrified look on his face Willow piped in, "Yeah, a little demon raising, a seal opening, a few glamours thrown here and there. Nothing to it." She nodded her head a little to excitedly, disproving her previous statement.  
  
The boy merely gulped. "Seal opening? B-But I thought. . .why threaten to kill me if I don't close it, only to make me open it again, huh? What kind of sick game is that?"  
  
"Oh, that's not sick. Once I knew this guy. . ."  
  
"Faith, not now."  
  
The dark haired slayer just smiled at the death gaze she was getting, "Sorry B. I was just saying." She cocked her head, earning a smirk from Spike and another scowl from Buffy, before Willow continued.  
  
"The seal needed to be closed then. But from what Buffy and I have figured out, we think that if we activate it again, and toss this nifty little containment spell over the Hellmouth that we can let the fight just pour on out and. . ." All the vigor was gone from the redheads little speech, so Buffy took over.  
  
"And we can take the First's army out on our terms, in our time, with little chance of the rest of the world even feeling a hiccup."  
  
------------  
  
So the discussion progressed, with Willow and Buffy leading the way, detailing to everyone their, actually quite well thought out, plans. Plans that had been pieced together through all of the bits and pieces that everyone had found while researching. Bits that on their own didn't mean much, but when put together became quite useful.  
  
The intention was for Andrew to activate the seal using a small amount of his own blood.  
  
"Oh," Anya piped in cheerily, "I found that!" She turned to Andrew smiling for approval before continuing. "It seems that you and the seal have a special bond, so to speak," Quick glance towards Xander *Sigh.* She continued looking at the rest of them, "Something to do with him having given it its first sacrifice, it should only need a few drops of blood to open."  
  
After that it would be his job would be to hang back and attempt to conceal any injured fighters from the ensuing battle, so as to give them half a chance and keep him out of the way.  
  
In order to keep the hordes of demons released confined from the outside world Willow would place up the containment spell.  
  
"I think I have all the kinks worked out, problem is that the spell would take an enormous amount of energy."  
  
"How enormous are we talking here? Are we talking giant mayor snake or apocolyptic dimension opening vortex. Clarify, please." Xander offered up questioningly. It was Buffy who answered:  
  
"The best source of energy at the site for Willow to make use of would be from the Hellmouth"  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Quite." Giles was absentmindedly cleaning his classes at this point, his brow furrowed in thought. "The dark energy that would fill her could be a problem, she'd need a source or purification." He spoke mostly to himself.  
  
"Exactly! That's why I was kina hopin' you could lend me a hand Giles? Be my anchor? Please?"  
  
So that's were Giles came in. It would be his job to channel opposite Willow, purifying her as needed.  
  
For the rest of them it was simple. Fight. Kill. Survive. Win. Each of the rest of the Scoobies would be in charge of a group of potentials. Basically they would be the front lines of the battle with the army of girls kept at a distance behind them, only needing to become involved if and when a demon broke through the front lines. Xander, Anya, and Robin would be fighting as a team since they had no super powers to fall back on. As much as Buffy would have liked to have kept them out of it, it was decided (after much verbal sparring) that their help would be greatly needed.  
  
------------  
  
It was nearly sunrise when the meeting was done. In twelve hours they would be at war.  
  
Oddly enough, with the thought of an impending apocalypse to fuel them, they all managed to get some sleep. Albeit, not entirely peaceful. 


	17. Off to War

Chapter 17: Off to War  
  
Spikes dreams were always the same these days. The setting would change, but each dream always ended with him as a big pile of dust at Buffy's hand. He supposed that the First was still playing him in its own way, but what it failed to realize was that the vision of Buffy staking him, while soul wrenching, suited him just fine. He could think of worse ways to go, that was for sure.  
  
He was disturbed from this day's dream, this very possibly last dream, if the world did indeed stop revolving after tonight, by soft footfalls on the stairs.  
  
"Whatdya want, Nibblet?" His voice was soft, his arm thrown over his eyes, shielding them from view as she approached.  
  
"I brought you some breakfast, thought you might be hungry."  
  
He sat up then gauging her at the foot of the stairs. Her face a mixture of worry, fear, and a small bit of determination. *Just a bitty Buffy.* he thought.  
  
"Thanks. What's the occasion?"  
  
"No occasion. Just thought I'd bring you a nice meal, spend some time with a friend, while very covertly avoiding the somber mood upstairs. I swear its like death warmed over up there. Those girls act like they've never been to an apocalypse before or something." She wrinkled her nose in jest, taking a seat next to him and handing him the mug.  
  
His blue eyes twinkled back at her, "Well, not all of us can be mystical balls of energy ya know."  
  
"Ya, I know." She smiled lightly at him, nibbling on her lower lip some, as he sipped at the blood."It's a pity really, cause maybe then they'd know better then to hog the bathroom or eat my wheaties. . ."  
  
"Still want me to eat them?" His eyes glinted back up at her.  
  
She waved him off, "Nah, if you did that we'd have to deal with an aftermath named Buffy. Not of the fun."  
  
"Suppose not."  
  
They sat in silence for a few mintues, Dawn fiddling with her pant leg, Spike sipping from his mug, before the dark haired girl wrapped her arms around the vampire in a hug. "Be careful," it was not a request.  
  
"Always am, Lil bit Always am." He squeezed his little girl back, becaue that's what she was to him. Did matter how tall she got or her advancing years. She was his little girl.  
  
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before taking off up the stairs.  
  
------------  
  
Some hours later it was Buffy who woke him with a slight shake. He opened his eyes wearily only to gaze up into the face of a angel. A very soft smile grazing her otherwise somber face.  
  
"It's time. Everyone's gathering upstairs. Faith should be arriving with Angel soon so. . ."  
  
She fidgeted slightly in front of him as he lifted himself up on his elbows, nodding lightly. "Nibblet visited me. Told me to be careful. I think she might actually not hate me, doesn't that just bugger all?"  
  
Buffy's mind drifted back to the last night she died, remembering her willingness to forgive and forget when everything around got just to dark and desperate to warrant caring about such little things anymore. "Well, one thing you can say about an apocolyspe, it brings people together."  
  
She smiled down at his laughing face, before offering him a hand up.  
  
His whole body warmed from the touch, hoping she'd never let go.  
  
She did, but not until they had reached the awaiting mob in the kitchen.  
  
---------------  
  
A short time later, everyone was loaded with their weapon of choice, as well as anything else they needed in order to perform their assigned task. As a small army they headed out into the fresh night, the streets having long been deserted, no one stopped to question them. No one was left to even care.  
  
Sunnydale had turned into a ghost town, seemingly overnight. Buffy idly wondered if the dreams she had been receiveing were being delievered to the whole town as well. Hell, if she wasn't the slayer and she'd been having those dreams, she didn't think a steel cage could have kept her here. *Just as well, no innocent bystanders afterall, that's a good thing. Right?*  
  
They arrived at the high school in silence and with only a small nod of acknowledgement to one another they stalked inside prepared to start a war.  
  
They appeared to be late.  
  
--------------  
  
The calm facade covering the outside of the school turned out to be just that, a facade. Inside it was anything but calm. The walls of the school were beginning to crumble as the power of the hellmouth was unleashed. A large rift had torn through the school, enveloping it in utter chaos.  
  
Without a word the witch dropped to the ground and began preparing her spell, just as the first wave of demons became visible from the glowing rift.  
  
"So I guess this means I don't have to open the seal, huh?" Andrew stated, his eyes wide in shock as a demon headed his way.  
  
With a snarl, Spike shoved him out of the way, as the others took there predetermined places, hoping that the plan would still work with the simple change of the First having a slight headstart. "Get down!"  
  
And the fight began. . . 


	18. Aware

((Thanks to my wonderful Beta reader, Magus, this chapter might never have left stream of consciousness if it weren't for him))  
  
Chapter 17: Aware  
  
The bulky demon before Buffy loosed a gurgling roar, as her axe swung effortlessly into its face, neck, and chest, dividing it in two. Her stylish yet affordable steel-toed boot flew into its abdomen, dislodging its ruin from her path. She weaved through the fray, hacking, dodging, and cleaving through the variety of demons pouring forth from the interdimensional rift open less than fifty yards in front of her. Her breathing was steady, labored. She exuded confidence and raw determination, though still this was no time for witty puns. Her energy, her focus, was centered on: *Kill, press on, kill. . .Reach the source, the First, and destroy it (How?) Doesn't matter. Kill, press on. . .*  
  
Her friends, her family and fellow warriors, were all positioned around the portal. Buffy was aware of Willow at her left, her eyes blackened from the energy she was absorbing from the rift in an attempt to contain the energy that flowed freely from the Hellmouth and thus keep the desperate fight centered in this one place. *For now at least.*  
  
Xander and Anya, vaguely registering past the sweat and red haze in her peripherals, were to her upper right tackling a beast together. Xander's left arm hanging limply at his side, a gash of red bleeding through his shirt, he barely noticed. They worked in quirky unison to hamstring and disable, and to keep each other alive. "Eww, Xander, its oozing on me, get it off." She heard Anya whine, any other time, any other place the whole image would have brought a smile to her face. Now it could only push her forward and increase her sense of desperation.  
  
The potentials were scattered about, fighting in pockets to stay alive. *God, so many of them* Buffy allowed her thoughts to trail, taking assessment of her compatriots. . . to the right two more of the army of girls had fallen; *Are they still breathing?* Andrew had moved them from the heart of the fight and was attempting a glamour to conceal them. He appeared strained and she doubted it would hold. Another half dozen or so could not be accounted for.  
  
On the other side of the gulf before her fought Angel and Faith. A trickle of blood seeping into Faith's eye from a sizable gash in her forehead was wiped away and forgotten. Massacring their way through the army of hell beasts that had made the unfortunate decision to stumble in their direction. The two redeemed souls fought quick and brutally matching growls reverberating from both of their throats as each one of their enemies were sliced, dispensed, and quickly replaced by two more.  
  
She left Spike holding the line; tackling and tearing with a frenetic, bestial ferocity, as many swollen throats and malformed limbs as he could hold onto at once. He was slowly being surrounded with still twitching limbs and reeking hunks, as the demon servants of the First broke upon him like a wave. The demon buried in him wading at the surface, bathing in the violence all around, causing the intensity of Spike's attacks to increase with each demon head severed. His blue eyes now burning gold as he ripped another arm from its owner's socket.  
  
Dawn and Amanda were fighting back to back behind Spike, keeping the cheap shots and stragglers at bay. Kennedy was not far from Willow; working feverishly to protect her witch, ensuring her spells could not be interrupted.  
  
She pictured Giles, calm and cool, lecturing about focus and temperament. In a spasm of panic she thought; *Where's Giles!?!* It cost her a precious moment (taking a vicious right hook to the eye) to locate him: not far from Xander and Anya with Wood keeping the Watcher blessedly free of demon attacks, chanting counter to Willow to filter the negative energy and keep her pure keep her sane.  
  
The strain was beginning to show on Giles. His temples pounded, glasses fogged, and sweat drenched his coat. *Got to keep it contained. . .must keep going. . .* An image of Yoda flashed through his mind, threatening to break his concentration. *Damn it*, he was spending too much time around Andrew. *When this is over, Andrew, I, and a memory charm will have to have a discussion.*  
  
Buffy pushed forward, dodging lethal strikes and rolling with glancing blows, weaving and falling back at need to keep her movement towards the rift. She caught sight of the First. It was positioned near the opening of the portal, a haughty look of pure ecstasy laid placidly on its assumed face. The current face it wore, in mockery of the tragic history the Scooby gang shared, was Buffy's. It saturated the ground and air with a sense of pure loathing, drawing all warmth and humor into it like a sour void. It was fertilizing the world for its children, and taking joy in pealing away nature, revealing the utter chaos that bubbled just under the skin. In its arrogance and revelry, it was caught off guard by the severed demon head that flew from Dawn's opponent *When did she get so good?*, and backed its arm into the crackling output rushing from the trench in the ground.  
  
What Buffy could not take notice of, due to the baker's dozen of demons that launched at her backside, was the look of raw agony on the First's semblance. Spike, kicking a writhing pile of scales and horns into the edge of the bubble, became aware of how these moments were connected. In a moment it had clicked. The energy the First was releasing was a source of sustenance to all evil entities *the First the greatest of them all*, creating a microcosm of unfettered chaos. But it was also solidifying the First, calcifying its essence in a soft shell of flesh and bone. Making it real. *Vulnerable* His own demon was engorged, licked its lips at this realization. *Weakness* There were limits to eternity. The First could be harmed. Could be killed!  
  
No sooner than Spike's awareness had invaded his mind, seemingly stimulated from some abstract outside source, than his body reacted. He charged full force through the onslaught, issuing a feral growl from his cracked lips. As he launched at the disoriented *Buffy* the First, he briefly considered how foolish he would look passing through *her* it and slamming into a tree. He was almost thrown off of his track when he actually made contact. . .almost. The First, with all of its cosmic awareness, never saw it coming.  
  
Spike's attack sent them reeling, spiraling backwards, into the depths of the chasm behind them.  
  
------------------ --------------------------------------------------------- -------------------  
  
Buffy took immediate notice when she'd heard Spike's growl. She'd have known it in a zoo at feeding time. She separated her opponent from its head and felt it slough off of her body like a vile second skin, *Eww* just in time to see Spike make contact with the First. She watched in paralyzed stupor as the two tumbled backward into the rift. Spike's body tumbled out of view. *This can't be happening* Unable to suppress it any longer, she screamed.  
  
It seemed time stood still at that moment. The world in chaos around her had slowed to a crawl as her scream entwined with that of the First's. Slowly the world began to spin again. (In reverse?) The energy that had been seething forth form the chasm was suddenly and violently being sucked back down. The earth trembled, as if there rode a cavalry a thousand strong. Mere moments passed, it seemed. The gash that had cut through the ground was sealed, gone. (Healed?) The Earth sighed, as if taking a breath of relief.or dealing with really bad heartburn. The last of the demons slowly died off as their energy source was severed. A few halves skittered and hopped about where the gash had been, remnants of those few demons that'd tried and failed to escape back into the schism.  
  
Everything had gone quiet. Everyone was aware that something had happened, but no one could be sure of what. The fight was over; or so it appeared. Besides Buffy, only Andrew and Kennedy had caught sight of what Spike's last action had been. They all looked on, as if in a dream, as Buffy moved languidly forward, towards where her enemy and (lover?) comrade had fallen. She let her axe drag limply behind her as she slumped forward to the ground. Her head fell forward, into her grime encrusted hands. She indulged in something she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of since she'd been returned to the world. She openly and unabashedly sobbed.  
  
------------ --------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------  
  
As they tumbled into the portal, energy flowed between them, using them as conductors. Spike watched the face of the first evil twist and contort into the faces of thousands of long dead souls. At first he could only be aware of the blinding pain flowing around and through him. He was barely cognizant of his own horrified scream, strained and nearly drowned out by that of the First.  
  
For whatever span of time that followed (minutes, hours, seconds.time seemed suddenly an absurd idea) he watched through closed lids as the now corporeal being before him was torn asunder, its body binding with the blinding electricity that flowed through them both. Finally, it was no more. *Could it've been this easy?*  
  
He became aware suddenly of one thing; the sound of that sweet girl's voice reverberating in his ears, 'She'll tell you, someday she'll tell you.' The pain seemed a distant memory, his whole body smiled for that one brief moment with that thought passing through his mind. Bitterly, he lamented; *Such a pity I won't get to hear her say it. . .* Then the void claimed Spike, and he was aware no more. . . 


	19. What With Time

((Thank you all soo much for the wonderful reviews : - ) They made my weekend. Here's hoping you continue to enjoy as we come down to the final few. ))  
  
Chapter 19: What With Time  
  
Time's a funny thing. Moving too fast when you need slow, crawling by at a snails pace when all you want is for the day to end and just get on with it all. And sometimes, sometimes it pauses. Momentarily lapses into a state of absolute. . .nothingness. Holding you in a freeze-frame.  
  
This is where Buffy the Vampire Slayer currently existed. She was dully aware of the rising and setting sun. The warmth of its golden rays as it splayed across her sheets (Dawn had floated in like a ghost, pulling the shades open as morning had come, leaving a glass of water by the bedside as she left) was the only warmth she felt.  
  
She wasn't catatonic like just after Glory *Bitch* had snagged Dawn. As it had turned out, she was actually injured physically during the fight worse that she had thought. After the adrenaline and shock had worn off she had felt the warm stickiness of blood seep through her shirt *Lucky Shot*, and had collapsed. So her family (what was left) had taken her home, set her up in her bed and were taking turns checking up on her, bringing her food and water. Not that she ate, or drank, or did much of anything.  
  
Her healing progress was slow. She had no more will left. She felt strangely like she did after she'd been returned from the dead, only now she made no pretenses. She didn't pretend as if she was happy to be alive. She didn't try to make herself feel anything. Because that only led to more pain, and that was something she couldn't handle yet. Despite what she wanted, she knew she had to keep on, get better, live. She just had no intentions on doing it any time soon. For once the world could wait.  
  
---------------  
  
In the depths of her dreams she felt safe, peaceful, and warm. The nightmares of the weeks before had left her, and now she was alone with herself once more.  
  
There was nothing surrounding her, simple white on white. No walls, no ground, yet she felt supported as she walked towards the only other thing in the room, herself.  
  
"Hello," her voice was soft, like that of a lost child, as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, holding onto herself as if it was all she had left, which wasn't far from the truth.  
  
"Hello again. I was wondering when you'd pay me another visit." The Inner Buffy smiled back warmly at the Dreaming Buffy.  
  
"Yeah, well, been busy. What with the opening of the hellmouth and the closing of the hellmouth and. . ."Her voice choked as she slumped down, settling herself on the ground that wasn't there. She buried her head in her hands, "Oh, god, Spike. . ." As she began to sob warm arms enveloped her a familiar voice soothing her, letting her known that she really wasn't alone. That she would never be alone.  
  
-----------------  
  
Buffy moved through the world, a ghost in a dream. It had been nearly a week since the portal had been closed. Nearly a week since the First Evil had been banished back to whatever hell it called home. Nearly a week since Spike had thrown himself on the pyre, closing the wounds of the earth. Nearly a week, but it felt like an eternity.  
  
After the realization had settled in as to what he had done. What he had actually done. *How could he do that?* Her heart was full of pain she hadn't thought she could feel. She snickered to herself at the thought of it, *Bastard always had a way of making me feel things I shouldn't.* She didn't know how long she had been caught in that frozen moment. Reliving the events of all to many painful things. She was only vaguely aware of Willow's arms, as they had enveloped her into an all too understanding embrace the morning of her dream, waking her from her thoughts and showing her proof positive of what was here, waiting for her in the real world.  
  
The smell of the redheads shampoo wafting through Buffy's senses, snapping her out of her reverie and she cried on her best friends shoulder. Soft murmurs of encouragement coming from the Wicca as she slowly stroked the Slayer's hair, doing her best to soothe her friends inner demons. Knowing it would probably never be enough. If her own experience with losing a loved one had taught her anything, it was that the pain never really lessens, it just learns to be silent for longer and longer periods of time.  
  
---------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------  
  
"He doesn't belong here. . ."  
  
"Well, where does he belong then?"  
  
"In the light."  
  
"Perhaps. He once preferred the dark, though. The world is bathed in gray around him now. So much so that it's hard to tell for certain if he even belongs anywhere anymore."  
  
"Still, it is what he deserves, don't you think?"  
  
The being raised an eyebrow at that (metaphorically speaking that is, since the beings in question were no more tangible than a mirrors reflection and held no more form then a willow-wisp.)  
  
"What he deserves? Since when have we concerned ourselves with what something deserves? It is our job to merely set things in motion and allow fate to play out the hand it is dealt. Nothing more."  
  
"True." The other being's essence nodded in response, "But on occasion there have been interventions. Causes for reversals. Surely we could. . ."  
  
"Do what? Make his sacrifice meaningless? Rewind time so that this go around they all end up dead? And by all, you do realize that I refer to the entire dimension, don't you? What good would that do him? Allow him a few precious moments in which to understand that no matter what, nothing he does matters? At least this way he died with a feeling of redemption in his heart."  
  
There was emptiness for a few lengthy moments following, before the silence was broken once more.  
  
"The prophecy. . ."  
  
An incorporeal hand waved the thought away, "Come now, we both know that prophecy's are merely ways for the fates to tell their little soldiers what they want from them, we are by no means bound to make sure that their so- called-rewards are delivered in the end. It is not our place to intervene when they have failed."  
  
"Ah, but they haven't failed yet. This vampire was not the one for whom their prophecy was written. He has not been working towards redemption for the hope of a reward in the end. He sacrificed himself knowing full well that there would be nothing for him on the other side. What being is more deserving of a reward than one who expects none?"  
  
The other being was unable to argue with this point, instead it *sat* contemplatively, observing the prone body (essence would be a more accurate term at that point, since the *body* in question had been torn asunder by naked energy). The being flittered itself over the creature's essence, learning its curves, peaks, and valleys: those strange nuances that make someone whole and unique.  
  
As it did a *smile* spread across its features, a decision having been made, "It would be fitting, wouldn't it? To reward him what the fates had intended for someone else? It would remind them that nothing is rote in rock and (the smile widened further) that perhaps they should meddle less. Allow things to just be, they might be surprised with the results."  
  
The other being warmed at this thought, a sweet lull in the conversation as they both came to the same conclusion. Time standing still for them then. The world about them beginning to fade and pulsate all at once. They took no heed of the blinding white of the energy that filled them, their decision made.  
  
"In the light then?"  
  
"Yes, most definitely, in the light." 


	20. Into the Light

((Well this is it, *sniffle* I hope you've enjoyed, I know I've been quite happy with writing. To Wolf116, while I can honestly say that I have remained spoiler free for the ending of the show, this just being my take on what would happen, I have heard rumors that Spike would be on Angel next season (Shudder at the thought, I can't even begin to list the number of reasons that I think that is a bad idea, but so far the writers haven't let me down, so, I'll go with it. I'm loyal like that :-P ) To all the rest of my reviewers, thank you for all your support. It puts a little bounce in my step. Now, on with the show. . .))

**Epilogue: Into the Light**

"Dawn! Have you seen my blue sweater?!"

"Check the dryer, I think I threw it in with the last load!"

" 'k, thanks." Buffy, swiveled off the stairs and bounded down towards the basement, a slight bounce to her step. She headed down to the dryer, fishing past a few of Dawn's things before finding what she came for.

"A-ha, gotcha!" She pulled the still warm sweater over her head, revealing in its comfort for a moment before her eyes flitted to the wall were Spike's cot had been, her mood abruptly took a downward turn. *Still gets to me, even after all this time. Sigh.*

Her mind flashed back to that fateful day eighteen months prior, a tear threatening to fall before she swiped at it with her sweater covered hand, a slight shiver coursing through her. Before she headed hurriedly back up the stairs, she needed air.

---------------------

A lot had happened since Spike had. . .since he had gone. After Willow had finally gotten Buffy to leave her room, things had slowly started to return to normal. Well as normal as they could be on a hellmouth. Even a neutralized one.

Angel had been the first to leave. The two of them had spent quite a few nights sitting up in silence, the occasional conversation breaking the lull. He wanted to know everything and a big part of her just wanted to tell him. But not yet. The wounds were still too fresh; she knew that digging around in them would only prevent them from closing, so she remained tight-lipped.

A check in call with Wesley had led to Angel taking off so soon, apparently there was an emergency of apocalyptic proportions involving Cordelia somehow. So, off he went. A quick hug and a small peck on the cheek later; one "If you need anything. . ."thrown in for good measure, and he was gone.

After he left, Buffy visited the graves for the girls who had fallen in the battle, thankful that she hadn't had to be the one to bury them this time. She had done that enough. Her tour as gravekeeper was done.

From there she had wandered the streets towards the high school, casually noticing that the residents (both of the human and demon persuasion *Oughta check on Clem*) of good ol' Sunnydale were arriving *home* in droves, seeming to have forgotten the Evil that had taken possession of the town mere weeks before. *Location, location, location...* She laughed lightly at the thought.

As she reached her Alma Mater her heart began to slow, the wreckage before her ten times worse then what it had been after the Mayor's botched ascension. She moved slowly towards where she knew he had gone, to where the opening of the hellmouth had been. Now all sealed up and waiting for its next chance *One good day.* The ground around it strangely unmarred, a mockery of the battle that had waged by its side.

She didn't know how long she had stood there, before placing the rose she had brought with her on the spot.

She knelt down then, placing a light kiss to the soft petals, closing her eyes, seeing a flash of brilliant blue orbs behind her closed lids, before she opened them again and settled the flower on the ground.

"I want you to know that I'm sorry. I understand it all now. And I thank you for doing what had to be done and…well, for everything." A silent tear worked its way down her cheek, "Goodbye, Spike."

-----------

She shook her head of the thoughts as she mounted the stairs to her room, checking a few of the drawers' absentmindedly. She didn't need anything, but she was just on edge now, she felt like she was waiting for something, but had no idea what.

-----------

Not long after Angel left, the gang began to get things in order. Starting with Faith and her still "Wanted Fugitive" status. Willow had made quick work of that by taping into the LAPD system and listing Faith as having been found dead just outside of Sunnydale. She filled in a detailed description of the evidence found, the death having been ruled a suicide. The telltale slashes to her wrists and bloody knife with her fingerprints on it, making the case open and shut. Hopefully, no one would dig further, but just in case, Willow took the time to fabricate a coroners report as well.

They soon learned from the coven that a new hellmouth was beginning to open, in Cleveland of all places. So Faith (sporting a brand new scar on her forehead) and about a quarter of the potentials headed off that way "A Slayer's duty and all, B. Don't worry, I won't do anything *you* wouldn't do." One last smirk and off she went as well.

Quite a few of the other girls had expressed an enormous amount of interest in returning home to their families. The recent brush with death still too bright in their eyes, they wished to spend what time they had with their loved ones. Buffy, frankly, couldn't argue. They weren't slayers yet. They might as well enjoy what time they had.

Robin was the next to go. Reports of demon activity in the Northeast and a nice high school that hadn't been blown up once (let alone twice) in need of some authority, all too enticing for him to stick around long.

Suddenly the house housed only a third of what the thin walls had become use to and it was damn quiet. Dawnie, suddenly had a full twenty minutes of bathroom time to herself that she no longer knew what to do with.

Willow and Kennedy, however, made full use of the extra time…

Xander and Anya had decided to move out as well. Buffy had actually smiled as her long time friend (his arm still in a sling) and his not-so-estranged lover talked to them all about reconciling. As it turned out, Buffy hadn't been wrong about Apocalypses bringing people together.

As the newly reinstated couple began the move into a new apartment (the vacancy rate in Sunnydale at an all time high. . .) a message came from the Coven in England - thus leading to Giles departure with nearly all of the remaining girls.

So here she was, sitting on her bed, in a house that housed only five people now (After all, Andrew really had no where else to go, and Dawn seemed to get along with him so well. . .). Two months ago she would have done anything for this kind of silence, but now that she suddenly had it, the lack of noise was deafening.

----------------------------------------------------

Pain. That's what he felt. Pure, unadulterated pain. His whole body was racked with it.

"Bloody hell," Or at least, that was what he had tried to say, it came out more as a garbled: "brrodyhhile." As he pushed himself up, his arms burning with the effort of it, he noticed for the first time the blinding glare that was surrounding him.

"What the. . ." His voice trailed off as he realized that the light was not coming from some overhead fixture (well not the kind he was use to anyway), but from the sun itself. He glanced up in awe, feeling the warmth of it on him for the first time. "How?"

No one answered him of course, but the suddenly all to obvious pounding of his heart got his attention.

"Oh."

It took him a few minutes, sitting there the sun warming his naked flesh, to put all of the pieces together. He remembered what he had done, remembered what had happened to the First as they tumbled through the energy rift, and then nothing. He was here. Alive. *In the light.* Human. And still at the high school (?) apparently, or rather, what was left of it (again). His eyes began to adjust as he glanced around him. At that moment not caring that all about him there was nothing but wreckage. He was alive, damnit, how he didn't know. Didn't care. He had one thought as he hauled himself up and began to move:

"Buffy."

----------------------------------------------------

BRRRING!!

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the phone ringing, before shouting a hasty. "I GOT IT!" into the house.

"Hello?"

"Buffy?"

"Cordelia?"

"Oh, good, its you. Listen, I have news. . ."

BANGBANGBANG!!

A sudden knock at the door made Buffy jump for the second time in as many minutes. The skin on the back of her neck rising up in tiny pinpricks as a feeling of familiarity swept over her, she simply bushed it aside.

"Oh, Cordy, can you hang on a sec?"

She didn't wait for a response, setting the phone down and heading for the door. Oblivious to the angry, "No I can't wait a sec! Buffy! Buffy!" She thought for a second that she had heard a muffled "Spike" come from the former cheerleader on the other end of the phone, but brushed it off, *What could she possibly have to say about Spike?* she thought, her mind still aware of the nervous tickle at her neck.

Her unspoken question was answered as she opened the door. Her eyes coming face to face with what could have been the most startling thing she'd ever seen. The color drained from her face, her voice barely audible, "Spike?"

And that old twinkle entered his eyes, the sunshine playing off his bleached locks as he smiled sweetly at her:

"Hello, Buffy…"

----------------------------------------------------

The beings surveyed the sight far beneath them, pleased with themselves for having interfered. They could almost hear the frantic scribbling of new prophecies as the fates (known quite inappropriately as 'The Powers that Be' to their little soldiers down below. Oh, if they only knew…) began trying to deal with this strange turn of events, laughter rippling through their essence, knowing that the fates would never learn.

They watched the world below them, two children with a fishbowl. The events that played out slowed down to their own lazy concept of time.

They watched as the two old lovers came back together. The one they had restored simply sweeping the women he loved into a passionate embrace. Damn the consequences. He was tired of denying how he felt, luckily for him, so was she.

The world moved on then, the once souled vampire, now fully human, well as fully human as the slayer was anyway. No reason to punish him by making him unable to fight, he would have gotten himself killed moments after they restored him if he couldn't defend those he loved properly. What good would that have done anyone, afterall?

The two of them together took the beings metaphorical breath away. Few things were perfect, but those two came damn close. So for quite some time (before other matters became too pressing to ignore) they watched them both. Watched them fight. Watched them shag.

Watched them love.

Watched them dance.

**End~**


End file.
